


Drabble Pieces

by arysthaeniru, sumiya



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:18:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 57
Words: 82,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysthaeniru/pseuds/arysthaeniru, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumiya/pseuds/sumiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavements, gardens, memories and games are all that fill a mind, really. A bunch of Rikkai drabbles. Lots of SanaYuki and Troika.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pavements (Troika)

One constant that Sanada remembers through their mutual friendship, is Yukimura’s love of balancing on the edge of the pavement. His nimble feet would curl around the small line and slowly move along them with serenity and grace. When they were little, Yukimura would remove his shoes and do it barefoot, with all the concentration of a child, tongue stuck out to the side and face furrowed into an unreadable expression. 

When they were in elementary, Yukimura kept his shoes on, but his arms were usually outstretched with the grace of a ballerina and the care of the gardener and painter. He pawned off his tennis bag onto Sanada while they walked, which Sanada never really minded, since Yukimura’s topics of conversation were usually more suited towards Sanada’s, when he was walking on the edge. The tradeoff for the bag was never much.

In middle school, Yukimura walked the line naturally, barely seeming to notice that he was walking the strip instead of the pavement. Yanagi Renji had joined their walk, but he seemed an almost natural addition, sticking close to Sanada and commenting upon how nimble Yukimura was and the changing percentages of Yukimura’s likelihood to fall. 

But one thing of all of these experiences, no matter how old Yukimura had been…one constant that never varied, was the fact that Yukimura never fell. Sometimes he wavered, sometimes he had to stop altogether and frown at his feet, and sometimes he had to save himself from getting run over by cyclists.  
But never once had he fallen. 

It wasn’t until the day after Nationals, almost 11 years after they’d met for the first time, that Sanada first witnessed Yukimura stumble. It wasn’t a large fall, not the kind that resulted in scraped hands that took what seemed like an eon to heal, or even the kind that broke bones. It was just a slight waver in his usual graceful demeanour, as Sanada mentioned the loss and Yukimura’s right foot touching the gutter as he pulled himself back up. 

But it almost spoke more than a real fall would have. 

Sanada just looked at Yukimura, pausing in his tracks, where Yukimura continued to walk, one foot ahead of the other. “It wasn’t a full recovery.” he said, flatly. There was no question in his tone. Yanagi is quiet at his side, and Sanada realizes that Yanagi must have already known this. He wonders whether Yukimura told him or whether he figured it out himself. 

Yukimura turned back, his eyes flashing against the rays of dying sun. “It wasn’t.” he said, calmly. “But it will be.” He continued to walk along the worn-down edge of the pavement, the sinewy, weak muscles under his thin school shirt, straining as he moved. His hands were outstretched this time, back to the insecurity of elementary school, instead of the calm stride it had once been.

Sanada frowned momentarily, eyebrows knitting together. He wondered when it was that he’d be able to believe him. Two years of desperate hope for a full recovery…he’d thought he could let go of the false cheer and determination now. It seemed he’d have to refind them and rewear them, even though they would no longer fit so well as they once had.

Yanagi tapped his shoulder softly and sent him a look of concern. Sanada sent him a fake smile, thanking his skills as an actor for once, and Yanagi, satisfied, turned around and kept walking.

“Coming, Sanada?” asked Yukimura, turning around again, looking almost effortless, as he balanced on his toes gracefully. He didn’t seem bothered by the not-quite recovery. Not as much as Sanada had expected.

“Hn.” he answered and followed him. Looking forward was all they had now; he, Yukimura and Yanagi.


	2. Memories (Yanagi-centric)

A video cassette lies abandoned on the top row of the bookshelf, almost hidden by the abundance of books that surrounded it. It had lain in its hiding place for something close to ten years, and the only reason it was rediscovered was due to a minor earthquake disrupting the contents of the shelf, and spilling them over the carpeted floor.

But it was fortunate for the cassette, because it was quickly found, by one Yanagi Renji. 

“What’s this?” he asks, almost to himself. It’s been a long time since cassettes were in use, and it isn’t until four days later, at an old bookstore that Yanagi had once used to frequent that Yanagi gets a chance to play it. 

He cleans it first, of course; who knows what the years of neglect have done to it, and somehow, he remembers to grab the pencil and rewind the tape to the beginning. Then, he sticks it into the player and waits. 

The screens buzzes at first, with the irritating but necessary static or white noise, then the screen flickers to light. The colours waver across the screen, almost giving him a headache, before they snap into place. A ten-year Yukimura greets him. “-mura Seiichi here! Welcome to the play~!” he says, and Yanagi can tell that something’s been cut off, something that time has erased permanently. 

“Yukimura-kun, hurry up!” says a very familiar voice and Yanagi chuckles. Jackal-kun’s voice used to be very high once upon a time. 

“Fine fine!” said Yukimura’s voice and his younger face sticks a tongue out at the camera. Yanagi laughs again. He’s forgotten how cheeky they used to be, how carefree. He hasn’t seen Seiichi in over four years. Not in person. And all of the adverts and interviews that Yanagi’s seen of him, are of a worn out, tired Yukimura, whose fiancée is ripping his heart out. The tennis and celebrity career has left him broken. 

“Ready and action!” calls out the voice from behind the camera and the stage, which looks more and more like the Sanada family garden, comes to life. Once the narrator, a young Marui, with a large hat that keeps falling over his eyes every five seconds, starts reading the words of the introduction, Yanagi almost instantly recognizes it. It was the first play adaptation that Yukimura had done. 

The story of Orihime and Hikeboshi, performed for the Tanabata festival in their first year. The protagonists of these stories, he noted, were always Sanada and Niou, being the best two actors. Niou, in a large wig, usually ended up playing the girl and Sanada, looking as sulky as ever, usually played the male protagonist. Of course, once Sanada started speaking his lines, it was hard to believe he’d ever been grumpy.

“For what should I love to see other than your two eyes? Dear Orihime, why must you torment me so? Why must this river part us in this cruel manner?” he asks, and Yanagi thinks that Sanada lost out on a calling there. His old friend is now a kendo instructor and history teacher, but Yanagi thinks he might have been better suited to the stage, with his loud and intimidating singing voice, coupled with his amazing acting. 

But Niou’s equally talented. “This weaving I must finish, or I shall never see my dear husband again! Dear father!” he begs to an impassionate Yagyuu, as stern as ever, even at ten, “Won’t you let me have one day with him? Just one! And I shall be satisfied!” The melodramatics aren’t exactly the stuff of legend, but Yanagi knows that Niou can act better and does act better, in their later plays. He’s not quite sure what Niou does now, if he’s frank. Niou vanished at some point after high school, and Yanagi never saw him again. For all Yanagi knew about their reclusive friend, Niou might as well be an actor somewhere. 

Yagyuu is a pre-determined variable, however. They still occasionally meet up for coffee, from where Yagyuu works at Kanai General Hospital as an A&E surgeon. But they aren’t close, by any stretch of the word. “Then let it be known, that on this day, this one day, you two lovers may meet.” he declares, his glasses glinting in the warm sunlight. 

Marui coughs and Jackal, dressed as the river, obliging moves away from where he was standing in between Niou and Sanada. Jackal never got speaking roles in their plays. In the beginning, it had started because his Japanese had sucked…but later, it had become something of a running joke, to get him to dress up in the most ridiculous ways. He wonders how older Jackal might react, then muses it wouldn’t be all that different to his waking life. Jackal works in a travelling circus, playing with fire and music and lights. Yanagi hasn’t spoken to him since high school, only seeing the adverts for the circus everywhere and Jackal’s face on the montage of performers, illuminated spookily by the fire. 

There is a nervous laugh in the video, drawing Yanagi’s thoughts back to the screen, and Marui starts to intonate his ending lines about the rain and the reason that Tanabata day must never be rainy, but there’s a firm cough from his younger self, who he hadn’t noticed in the corner, telling Marui that his lines were wrong. Marui sticks his tongue out at his younger self and the two Yanagis are mirrored in chuckling fondly at the sight. Marui is another that Yanagi has fallen out of touch with. But that could be attributed to distance; France is a long way away and the TV Show that Marui runs there is very popular. For French people, anyway. 

There is no Akaya, but as Marui screws up his lines again, and gets snarked at by Niou, he’s reminded of Akaya. He’d always be the most petulant about putting on these plays, then be one of the most enthusiastic actors during it. Of all of his friends, Akaya is the only one that Yanagi is still in close contact with, if only because Akaya comes to mooch food off him once a week, complaining about his postgraduate degree and ‘why did I choose stupid veterinary sciences anyway, senpai?’, still full of boyish complaints and mirthful eyes, despite the passing of ten years. There is a slight burn in Yanagi’s eyes and he blinks.

In the video, Marui’s lines are forgotten as he argues with Niou, who gives as good as he gets. Yagyuu and Yanagi warn it’s a bad idea while Sanada goes to try and separate them. This fails and Jackal hovers nervously on the outside, in case something goes wrong. He hears Yukimura growl at the camera, turn it around to point at his boyish ten-year old face. Then, he heaves a long-suffering sigh as he goes to join the action, the camera carelessly tossed onto the grass. It was at just an angle to be able to see the mocking fighting and arguing and chasing around the garden and sticking out of tongues as they tripped each other up.

Yanagi had almost forgotten how childish Sanada could be sometimes. And how fast Yagyuu was at chasing someone when they grabbed his glasses. Or how mad Jackal could get when someone really irritated him. Or how everybody gave Yukimura a wide berth during these things, for fear of punishment. Watching the video was such a heart-string-puller and it was over all too soon, the tape blinking out suddenly, showing him the empty static.

He couldn’t ignore the sting in his eyes now, and the small tears rolled down the cheeks of Yanagi Renji. When had they all just drifted apart? Had it started in high school, when Yukimura had gotten the tennis scholarship and Yagyuu had quit the club? After graduation, where Marui got a college offer in France and Yanagi had gone to the US and Niou had just disappeared? Had it stopped after undergrad where Jackal had started travelling the world and Yanagi’s data collection stopped being so tight? Had it been in how everyone’s emails got shorter and the telephone calls got less frequent and the only communications were the small postcards and birthdays cards?

They’d promised forever, and they’d barely managed ten years. 

Yanagi stares at the video, which had showed him a happier time. Then he turns off the static and gets up from where he was sitting. The past was the past. They couldn’t bring back what had once been…but maybe they could renew it.

He reaches for the mobile phone in his pocket and starts to scroll for Yukimura’s current number. He’ll work his way up from there. He dials it and waits.

“Hello? Yes, my name is Yanagi Renji. I’m looking for an old friend, called Yukimura Seiichi…”


	3. Garden Conversations (Alpha)

The top of Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku Chuu’s roof was far more beautiful than other schools. Where other schools had barren concrete or cleaning supplies, you would find Rikkai’s swimming pool in the top of one of the buildings and the rooftop garden on the other. Space conservation was important, after all. 

It was at the rooftop garden that one would find Yukimura Seiichi at, on any given lunchtime, cheerfully watering the plants, pruning the weeds or planting new flowers. Most of the vegetables from the garden were used by the kitchen and in Home Economics when the summer months came so it was one of the key jobs of the Beautification Committee to keep the garden well-maintained but Yukimura Seiichi was perhaps the most dedicated member of the committee, at least, when it came to the garden.

So dedicated, that it wasn’t unusual for him to be late to the periods directly after the breaks, with a sheepish grin on his face, as he ran into his seat. But he was such a model student in other ways, that no teacher ever really begrudged him his tardiness. 

Yukimura just laughed darkly as he twirled his hair between his fingers. It wasn’t like him to miss entire lessons when he was perfectly well, but his thoughts currently were too introspective to even be able to concentrate in the lesson. It would be doing the teacher more of an injustice to have him there in the class and completely inable to focus, so he just skipped.

He swung his legs through the slats of the railings that surrounded the roof. The ground was four storeys away. It was an awfully long way down. Yukimura wondered what would happen if he just jumped. Would it hurt, he wondered, to hit the ground? Would he feel it or would he just die on impact? And what would happen after he died, he wondered. It was a question he’d pondered a lot in the hospital.

And a question he’d thought that he’d abandoned in the hospital, as well. He’d left it behind. He’d recovered after the surgery in America, completely back to how he’d been in his first year of middle school, even better. But it sometimes still felt like he was weak. He still had to worry about his health. He couldn’t afford to get ill as it would likely kill him, and he practically carried out a box of face masks to throw at coughers and tissues and hand-sanitizer for anybody else. Like a walking hospital. 

“You know, you actually have a seventh period this year?” came a demanding voice from behind him. Yukimura didn’t even bother turning around.

“Leave it Genichirou. All I’d do is make the teacher feel insecure.” he said, leaning his head against the metal bars. He could see the rust marks and the flaking paint, and it was probably really unhygienic, but Yukimura was fed up with caring. 

“Don’t you have art?” asked Sanada, taking a seat next to him, crossing his legs.

“Mmm. But since I’m the only one who answers questions in that class, she’d know it would be weird if I showed up and didn’t stick up my hand.” said Yukimura, turning around slightly. “Won’t your trousers get dirty, Mr. President of the Discipline Committee?” he teased, lightly, but his heart wasn’t into it. 

Sanada could obviously tell that. “You don’t have to pretend.” was all he said, as they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

“You aren’t going to leave, are you?” asked Yukimura after five minutes had passed, with only the sound of their breathing and the PE lessons from the fields behind them, lingering in the air. “Don’t you have paperwork to do?”

“And homework too.” admitted Sanada. “But no.” 

Yukimura just sighed and looked back down towards the ground. “Have you ever thought about just jumping one day?”

Sanada just gave him a nonplussed look. “No.” he said, immediately and sincerely. Jackal had answered no as well, when Yukimura had asked him that morning, but Jackal had contemplated it after the question. It didn’t look like Sanada was going to even think about it. “That would be running away. And it would leave someone with an awful mess to clean up.”

Yukimura couldn’t help the giggle that rose up from his throat. Trust Sanada to be ever-practical. “Do you ever dream?” he asked, curiously and somewhat meanly.

“I did once.” said Sanada seriously, either not recognizing the sarcasm or just ignoring it. “About three years undefeated in tennis. It didn’t work out so well. Now I don’t dream. I just live.” 

Yukimura laughed bitterly and turned back to face his garden, leaning his back against the railings. “What a dream that was.”

“We almost did it, too.” 

They lapsed into silence again, letting the sound of distant laughter and the birds cawing above them lull into the silence between them. “I’ve been thinking so often about death and doom and disaster lately. It’s not normal, but I can’t stop.” said Yukimura, finally. It was easy to talk to Sanada, because he didn’t judge. He just listened and threw in his practical input. 

“What are you to judge what’s normal? For all you know, everyone could be thinking it and just not saying it aloud.” Sanada’s eyes seemed more open than usual, without his hat to hide them under a shadow.

Yukimura just tossed Sanada a look. “Do you think about death and doom and disaster?”

Sanada nodded. “Sometimes. But not for very long. I don’t brood where I can help it.” 

Yukimura sent Sanada an acid glare. He wasn’t brooding! Sanada shrunk back a little, an apologetic look in his eyes and Yukimura sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m more snappy than usual, too.” he muttered. “Sorry.” 

“It’s nothing.”

“…”

“…”

Yukimura just cracked a weak smile to Sanada. Sanada’s silence was hard to defeat, on any day, and Yukimura wasn’t inclined to pull him into a stupid contest today. Instead, he pulled out what had been troubling him from his pocket. The letter had come this morning and it had been pulling at him all day, until it had culminated into him being unable to sit in class for any longer. He wasn’t quite sure why it brought portends of death and disaster…but it had. 

“But…” stammered Sanada, as he finished reading it, with the sharp eyes that kept Sanada as third place in their year’s rankings, “This is good news.” 

“Perhaps.” said Yukimura, noncommittedly. A 1.5 million yen tennis sponsorship to play in the Junior Tennis Tournaments was nothing to scoff at. It was a serious career advancement. But…it was in America, for two years straight. There were breaks of course, but for two or three weeks at a time, not enough to come back and visit properly. Even the school breaks were longer. 

“It is.” said Sanada, with anger in his tone. “Don’t deny the truth, Seiichi, anyone from the middle school tennis circuit would jump to get a chance like this!” 

Yukimura just scowled. “Normal people would jump at the opportunity. But all I can think is of what I would stand to lose.”

“But what would you gain? A stable future and exposure to the tennis world! It’s the perfect interlude into the tennis world!” exclaimed Sanada, looking completely confused. “Unless…you don’t want to be a pro anymore?”

Yukimura sighed. “No, I still want that more than anything.” He still loved tennis more than life itself. “And this opportunity is perfect, in so many ways.” The training, the training locations, the coaches he’d be training under and the intense opponents he’d face. Everything it had described, even the hardships he might have to face, all sounded like the perfect way to build character and inner strength that he’d need in order to even make it to the preliminaries of a Grand Slam. “But I’d not get the chance to finish high school, and if tennis collapsed, I’d have nothing to fall back onto. And…I’d have to leave everybody behind. My parents, my sister, the team….” 

Sanada nodded. “So?”

Yukimura gaped. “So? SO? That’s everything I’ve ever known!”

“It’s not like you to be nervous of throwing your life out on a whim.” said Sanada, and it was almost bitterly. “So what’s wrong with this? Your parents would still keep in touch and I bet Minoru-chan would call you every day. I know that I’d be video-chatting you as often as possible and Renji probably with more frequency than myself. The rest of the team would hardly neglect correspondence either.” he said, with dark determined eyes.

“Bu—“

“And if it’s Japan you’d miss,” Sanada interrupted Yukimua’s protests, “You’ve often said of how you find it stifling and how you prefer the attitudes of Europe or America. Isn’t this the perfect chance to live that dream? And they even have Japanese food at the centre you’d be training at. So you wouldn’t get too unsettled by that either. So what’s your problem?” he asked, coldly.

It felt as brutal as a slap to the face for Yukimura. Sanada might have stopped that violent streak in middle school, but he’d not lost his bluntness.

“I don’t know.” said Yukimura finally, after musing in sulky silence for a few moments. “I don’t know what my problem is. My heart wants to follow my dream, but a part of me is holding back. And I can’t fathom why.”

“You’re afraid.” said Sanada, immediately. “You’re afraid of progressing further into the unknown future. Afraid of leaving what is familiar behind. But you shouldn’t be. Because we’ll always be in here, if you truly love us.” he said, reaching forward, and poking Yukimura’s chest.

Yukimura smiled softly. “You’re so cheesy, Genichirou. You need to stop watching those kiddie movies with Sasuke.” But he was grateful for his best friend’s words. As per usual, Sanada was brilliant at giving him hope. 

Sanada blushed and looked away. “I don’t exactly choose to watch them…”

Yukimura laughed. “But Sasuke is a force of nature.” he finished, for him. 

“Oh hush. You’re just as wrapped around Minoru-chan’s finger.” Sanada snapped, his ears going red as well. 

“Yes, but unlike you, I’m not embarrassed. My sister has harnessed the art of getting other people to do her work for her perfectly. And she does the angelic smile better than me. I’ve taught her all she needs to know. Except how to skin boys alive. But that can wait for another two years. She’s eight. The admirers will come when she is ten.” said Yukimura, contently. 

Sanada tossed Yukimura a look. “Have I ever told you how creepy you can be, sometimes?”

Yukimura just grins and his foul mood is dispersed completely. And judging by the smile on Sanada’s face, he knows it as well.

“Are you going to tell Renji and the others, soon?” asked Sanada,

“Maybe Renji, Jackal and Yagyuu, to get some other opinions.” said Yukimura, seriously, the topic returning back to the offer, making him slightly less likely to sorely tease his oldest friend. “About whether the offer is really as good as it looks, and whether I can milk some more money out of the sponsor.” 

Sanada nodded, that was worthwhile. “And…no jumping off buildings?” he asked, hesitantly, as he got up and offered Yukimura a hand. 

Yukimura took it and sprung to his feet. “No jumping.” he said, not even sparing the edge a look. “We should go to club activities now, Genichirou. There are only five minutes of lesson time left, anyway.”

Sanada looked disapproving, but Yukimura cut across him. “Not worth it. I’m not going to lessons for just five minutes. Come on. You wouldn’t want to be late to the Discipline Committee meeting. How would that look, hmm?”

“You’re incorrigible, Seiichi.” said Sanada, frowning. 

Yukimura just smiled widely and held open the roof’s door for Sanada. “You still put up with me.”

“More’s the pity for me.” said Sanada, dryly, as Yukimura shut the door on the rooftop garden. The plants wavered in the sunlight, not letting on about the conversation that they had just been privy to.


	4. Sacrifice (Troika)

Yukimura wiped the blood off his face. “Have you got the plasters, Renji?” he asked, as he probed his mouth with his tongue to check that his teeth hadn’t been chipped from where we was slumped on the high school clubroom floor. 

Yanagi, who was rummaging through his bag on the bench nearby, gingerly avoiding touching the his stuff with his bleeding elbow, frowned. “Only a few. Mostly though, I brought those bruise sprays and bandages.”

Sanada sighed as he massaged his bruised and bright red knees. “I’ll need that spray, Renji. My knees feel like they’re going to fall off.”

Yukimura frowned. “Aren’t senpai supposed to help you?” he asked as he finished his mouth inspection and started checking his elbows and forearms for cuts. The bruises were a hopeless cause.

“Well, when you tell them that they’re useless and steal their place on the prestigious tennis team, I can understand some sort of anger.” said Yanagi, mildly, as he held out the spray to Sanada. “Seiichi, can you help bandage my elbow? I can’t reach.”

“Does that mean we have to sit back and take it though?” asked Yukimura furiously, as he gently bandaged Yanagi’s elbow and taping it together.

“I think sitting back and taking it isn’t exactly the description for this afternoon.” said Sanada gruffly, hissing as the spray hit open wounds. “The senpai-tachi got away with a lot of bruises and cuts too.”

“Not as much as the three of us.” said Yukimura grimly, as he started to dab Sanada’s face with antiseptic cream. “Can you do mine as well afterwards, Genichirou? I don’t want to get infected.” 

“Sure, but there is a rather large size difference between us. They have approximately 10 inches on us.” said Yanagi, looking slightly amused as he applied the bruise spray to his ankle, which he thought had twisted in their scuffle. “The thing I’m worried about is how we’re going to explain this to the teachers tomorrow. They’ll take the senpai-tachi’s side.”

Sanada pulled a face as Yukimura dabbed particularly hard on his face. “I thought we were all going to ignore the fact that this happened?”

“Not a chance we’re going to be able to do that, Genichirou. We all look like we walked through a war zone.” said Yukimura. “My mother is going to make a huge fuss over this. Take off your hat; you might have something on the back of your neck.” 

Sanada removed his hat and tilted his head so Yukimura could get access to his neck. “Still, making a fuss about this will get us the reputation of being tattle-tales. We’re already ostracized enough by the senpai-tachi. We don’t need that as well.”

“Yeah, but this is the third time that this has happened.” said Yanagi, frowning angrily at the mirror. “My sister’s getting really suspicious about me sneaking all of these first-aid supplies out of the house.” 

Yukimura handed the cream to Sanada who started gently dabbing at Yukimura’s face. Yukimura winced and fidgeted as Sanada applied the cream. “Well, look at it this way, Renji, Genichirou. We’re not going to tell anyone explicitly. We’ve just got to let the rumours go around and go in to school tomorrow and stand tall and proud, like matyrs. It’s obvious we can’t curry favour with our older peers, but the people in our own year?” Yukimura smirked then winced loudly as Sanada dabbed ferociously on an open cut on his neck. “Sanada, that hurts!”

“Tough luck, Yukimura.” said Sanada, smirking slightly. “But how do we know that the rumours will be in our advantage?” 

Yukimura smirked. “Bunta is very close to the sources of the rumour-mill. I’ll be giving him a call tonight. He’ll start spreading it for sure. He and Niou will most likely make sure that it reaches the whole school by lunchtime.”

Yanagi laughed lowly. “How devious, Seiichi. And the teachers?”

Sanada finished dabbing Yukimura and turned to Yanagi and started daubing the cream all over Yanagi’s forearms. “Sanada’s right in that we left marks. But we only left bruises. We didn’t cut any of them. There will be no blood and no bandages for the senpai-tachi. However, we look like we walked out of a war-zone. The teachers will take notice and when they do, you need to follow my lead.”

“And your lead is….?” asked Yanagi, as he reached for his notebook, his long hair brushing the cream and getting wet. 

“We have to deny that anything happened, but look extremely shifty about it. We have to say that nothing happened and that we just tripped or something.” said Yukimura, as he undid his shirt and winced at the bruises blossoming there. “Obviously, the teachers will be unconvinced and they’ll tell us that it’s irresponsible of such model students to lie. Then, Genichirou, you have to break first and say something about the senpai. Renji and I will try to shush you, but that will peak the interest of the teachers. They’ll encourage you to go on and you have to talk about how they’ve been stealing our stuff and generally making our life difficult.”

Yanagi grinned devilishly. “Then I’ll leap in with some statistics then clap my hand over my mouth like I didn’t mean to. The teachers will start to be worried at that point. Then you Yukimura—“

“I’ll sigh and say that the senpai were jealous of our talent and assaulted us after practice. I’ll say that we tried to fight back and run away, but they wouldn’t let us. All the while, we’ve got to look reluctant to spill our guts. Then we have to say that they swore us to silence, or else they’d hit us again.” Yukimura finished.

“The teachers will be furious.” said Sanada, his eyes blazing with amusement. “The senpai-tachi will get punished severely. But then senpai-tachi will know who ratted them out and we will have even more trouble.”

“Wrong.” said Yukimura, with a devious smirk as he wrapped one the bandages around his aching chest with a grunt. “There are security cameras all over the school. They’re fake, but there’s one of the boxes in the clubroom. The school will say that they saw everything on camera. The senpai-tachi can’t pin it on us if the school says that they saw it through the cameras and we ask the teachers to not reveal that we spoke up.” 

Yanagi laughed slightly as he too unbuttoned his shirt. He was mostly blemish free, but Sanada’s chest was a mess of bruises and scars. Yanagi sighed and handed Sanada the bandages wordlessly. “We’ll win the fight with the senpai-tachi. But at what cost to ourselves?”

“No tennis for a couple of days, at least.” said Yukimura, pulling a face as he buttoned his school uniform over his tennis one. “If we antagonize the injuries, we could do ourselves some serious damage.”

All three of them let out a dejected sigh in unison before glancing at each other, with smirks in their eyes. “Genichirou, we all need to pick a committee to join here. Renji’s going for School Council this year, and I’ll head to the Beautification Committee like last year, but what are you going to do?” asked Yukimura, standing up gingerly. 

“Discipline Committee most likely, like last year.” said Sanada, as he placed his hat back on and heaved himself to his feet. “But I’m not sure yet. I wanted to go over it with ojii-sama tomorrow.”

“How about we head to your house now Genichirou, and then we can all ask him together?’ asked Renji, as he too smoothed out his hair and got up from his position on the floor. 

“Yeah, your house is closest to the school, Genichirou.” said Yukimura as he eased his blazer on and ran a finger over the bruise blossoming on Sanada’s jaw.

Sanada removed his hand. “It doesn’t hurt.” he murmured, “Not after U17 and what we went through there.” 

“But it’s a betrayal nonetheless, so hurts in here.” said Yanagi, placing a hand on Sanada’s chest. Sanada winced slightly as Yanagi’s rubbed a bandage and looked contrite at reacting. 

“No. They mean nothing to me. Why should I be upset by their actions?” said Sanada, shrugging as he took Yukimura’s bag for him. 

“Secretly inside, a part of you hurts.” teased Yukimura, as he slid his arm through Sanada’s.

“A part of you will never get over the agony.” deadpanned Yanagi, as he slipped his other arm around Sanada’s also. 

Sanada sighed. “Must you two always do this?”

“But your reaction is so very amusing, dear Genichirou.” said Yukimura, entwining his hand with Sanada and leaning on his shoulder. 

Yanagi smiled and gripped Sanada’s hand. “85% that we’ll never stop this.”

Sanada didn’t know which ‘this’ they were referring to. Somehow, he felt that he didn’t need to know. “Let’s go home.” Sanada quietly said as they left the school behind, their arms intertwined.


	5. Phonecall (Alpha)

Yukimura called different friends depending on what he wanted to have. Marui was when he wanted to be cheered up; Jackal, when he wanted a favour; Niou for amusement and snark and Kirihara when he was bored or wanted some hero-worship. But the most frequent people on his call list was Yagyuu, for homework help; Yanagi, for all and any advice and Sanada when he just wanted someone who would listen and not judge about anything. 

After the day he’d just had, all Yukimura wanted was a listening ear. He punched the speed-dial for Sanada and held the phone to his ear, gripping the edges with unnecessary force that made a slight cracking sound.

Sanada picked up after five rings, the same amount that the phone rang every time he called Sanada’s mobile. There was the sound of scratching of pen on paper on the other end of the line and a steady, deep breathing pattern. “This is Sanada Genichirou speaking. Who is it?”

“It’s me, Sanada.” said Yukimura, switching the phone to his other ear, where it was more comfortable. "Are you busy currently?” He adjusted his perching position on the window sill, overlooking his garden, which was frosting slightly with the night’s chill. He’d have to thaw out his flowers tomorrow, or get someone else to do it for him. 

“No, I’m just finishing Ito-sensei’s business project, but then I’m done. What’s the matter, Yukimura?” asked Sanada, his voice slightly concerned, as the crinkling of paper continued to act as white noise to their phone call. 

“The doctor made a house visit today after they found nothing urgent from my collapse last week.” said Yukimura, pausing slightly to take a deep breath and steady his voice. He twisted the telephone cord between his fingers and gazed out into the darkness of the city. “He said that I have a lot of symptoms of a neurological disorder and he suspects that I have an accelerated case of Guillain-Barre.”

The scritching of pen on paper continued on Sanada’s side. “And what does that mean for you?” asked Sanada calmly, though his voice was a little hesitant. Yukimura wished he could see Sanada’s face. 

“Guillain-Barre is a peripheral nervous disorder, which means that it affects my extremities.” At the extended silence from Sanada’s side, Yukimura continued to explain. “Simply put, it means that I’ll start to lose control over my limbs. Legs, then arms, then face is the projection that the doctor placed.” He swallowed nervously here and shut his eyes tightly. “The doctor said that playing tennis wasn’t a possibility anymore, in case I collapse and accelerate the symptoms even further. I could kill myself by playing tennis.” He gripped the phone tightly and waited. 

There was complete silence on the other side. The paper sounds had gone, the rustling of paper, even Sanada’s light breathing, was completely gone. The phone then hung up, startling Yukimura slightly, as the sharp and harsh dial tone sounded into Yukimura’s ear. He pulled the phone away from his ear, slowly and with no amount of disbelief. Then, he growled and threw the cord phone away from him with as much force as he could muster.

It smashed against the wall, the cracking sound acting as a sharp contrast to the silence. The pieces were sharp and rocked with the force of the throw. Yukimura growled but curled himself into a tight ball. What was he without tennis? 

All of his popularity and friends had come from tennis. He’d met Sanada at a tennis club, Yanagi and he had met at a tennis tournament and impressed each other through tennis on the first day at Rikkai. His cricket skills had come from his tennis coach introducing him to the sport. His love for art had come from watching tennis players in Europe, like Boris Becker, Bjorn Borg, Roger Federer and recently Rafael Nadal, and wanting to go visit all of their home countries and home turfs. 

He was nothing without tennis. He was just an empty shell without tennis, just like the broken phone that lay broken all over his floor. Why had he expected that anyone would stay with him without tennis?

Yukimura took fast, shallow breaths to stave away the angry tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He was being stupid. If Sanada didn’t want to be friends with him now that Yukimura didn’t have tennis, then it was Sanada’s problem. Still, it didn’t stop the pain in his chest from blossoming. Sanada was his oldest and first friend. It ached and hurt, despite the numbness in his legs and his arms. 

He tilted his face against the cold window and breathed in the scent of the smog and pollution. It was almost acrid, but he could smell the salt and water on the air as well, which tempered out the awful smell of the city. Logically, he knew that he should call Kirihara or Marui to cheer him up, but he just wanted to wallow in his despair. Usually, when he was angry or confused, he played tennis to sort out his thoughts and calm his body, but he couldn’t even do that now.

Yukimura laughed darkly, a harsh sound, even to his own ears. He was just pathetic, wasn’t he? A pathetic excuse for a human being. He uncurled from his ball at the window and went to pick up the fragments of the phone. He’d have to explain that to his parents when they came back from his grandma’s house. That would be fun. 

When he finished that, Yukimura sat down in his spinning office and spun around aimlessly, his gaze unfocused. Death. He could die anytime soon. That thought wouldn’t stop playing through his mind. He could die tomorrow. He could die next week. Nobody knew how much longer he had. 

That…that was a scary thought. Did he have to write a will or something? Were you allowed to take out life insurance on a dying person? After all, the least he could do for his parents was make them some money in recompense for a dead son. 

Yukimura tugged sharply at his hair, as the angry tears threatened to spill out of his eyes again. He just didn’t know anymore. What were you supposed to feel? What were you supposed to think? What were you supposed to do in a situation like this? He didn’t want to just sit here. 

His plants were dying in the cold. If Yukimura was going to die, the least he could do was prevent his plants from the same fate. Yukimura stood up and shoved on his slippers. He was in the process of reaching for a jacket when the doorbell rang. Probably his parents. Che, they’d forgotten the keys again. 

Yukimura hurtled down the stairs like he usually did and opened the door. He blinked slightly. It wasn’t his parents.

Instead, on the doorstep, was a red-faced, out-of-breath, Sanada Genichirou. He was wearing his yukata that he usually wore to bed and a pair of geta, and he was bent over double. He’d clearly just run all the way from his house, as he was still clutching his cellphone as he balanced himself on his knees. 

“Sanada?” asked Yukimura, blinking. What was going on? Hadn’t Sanada just hung up when Yukimura had called….him. Oh. He’d run all the way from his house because of the news. Oh. 

Sanada stood up with some difficulty. “Are you…are you okay?” he panted, his words separated and breathy. Every breath he took was clearly visible and frosted in the cold night air. There was no hatred or disgust or anything but sheer concern in Sanada’s voice. Without the protective covering of his hat, his emotions were clearer than ever and Yukimura couldn’t have mistaken them. 

Yukimura relaxed into a smile and grinned. “I think I’m supposed to ask that, Sanada. Surely the run from my house to yours is barely 20 laps around the school? How unfit are you from constant supervising duty?” He poked Sanada’s stomach teasingly. 

Sanada glared slightly and Yukimura laughed. He let Sanada in and slipped into the kitchen. “Hot chocolate?” he asked.

He was met by a glaring, unamused face from Sanada. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m fine.” said Yukimura, breezily. 

“Don’t lie to me, Yukimura. I’m not a fool.” snapped Sanada. His face softened with a sigh. “I’m your friend aren’t I? You can tell me anything, right?”

“You are my friend. My best friend.” said Yukimura smiling slightly. “Who else would run almost 5 miles in twenty minutes to try and talk to his friend?”

“But you’re still lying to me.” said Sanada, plainly. “I’m no Renji, but even I can see that you’re just lying to me and to yourself.”

Yukimura scowled. “What good is it going to do to mope around? So what? It’s incurable. So what, they don’t know when I’m going to die? So what, I can never play tennis again?! WHAT DOES IT ALL MATTER?!” He stopped moving suddenly as he realized that he was screaming at Sanada like his sister throwing a temper tantrum., complete with foot stomping. 

But Sanada was looking at him with a soft, sad smile. “It’s okay to be sad.” he said, his voice quiet and grave. “I’m sad too.” And to Yukimura’s surprise, that was Yukimura’s undoing. The tears he’d been trying to dam up all day exploded out of him in a rush and he was leaning on the kitchen countertop for support. He felt two strong arms around him steering him to the kitchen table and sitting him down. He clung to Sanada and sobbed into the front of his yukata. 

He kept trying to stop, but every time he met Sanada’s gaze, he just started crying again. He was so pathetic. He pounded the table angrily and drew away from Sanada as he rubbed his eyes and sniffled the snot away. He grabbed a tissue from the table and cleaned up in silence not looking at Sanada. He was such a fool. 

“Here,” he said, not meeting Sanada’s eyes as he passed him some tissues. “I cried all over your yukata.” his voice sounded distant, even to his own ears, but he’d just embarrassed himself completely. 

“I cried like a baby when Sasuke broke my arm last year. I cried for something like an hour, because I couldn’t deal with the pain and the fact that I couldn’t play tennis for a month.” said Sanada. His voice was shaky and hesitant. “That was nothing. You could die at any point. And you’ve barely cried five minutes. You’re so strong, Seiichi. Stronger than me, stronger than any of us on the tennis team.” 

Yukimura blinked. That was new. Sanada, his stoic best friend and vice-captain crying over that broken arm? He’d come into school last year like he broke his arm every day. “That’s not true.” said Yukimura. He wasn’t quite sure what he was refuting. 

“Yes it is. When I first met you, I thought you were a girl, you know?” said Sanada, his mouth quirking slightly. “I thought you’d act like one too, and didn’t want to talk to you. But you built up a huge group of friends and followers. You completely annihilated any form of competition at the club and at the tennis tournaments. Everybody loves you, from the teachers to the students. That took strength and courage, something that neither Renji or I have. And you’re the number one tennis player in the Japan middle school courts. That didn’t come from natural talent. You’ve strong and you’ve worked hard and past your pain.” 

Here Sanada paused and his face contorted into a frown. “With the risk of sounding cliché and trite, I think you can do it again and push past your pain and hurt. And when you can’t be strong like you always are, I’ll be there for you. Because we’re best friends.”

Yukimura stared at Sanada for a few long moments. He’d never seen Sanada be this eloquent ever. Yanagi was the poet. Yukimura was the pragmatist and Sanada was the unimaginative who had trouble speaking for too long. Then, he laughed slightly. “Don’t say things like that Sanada. Next thing you know, you’ll start looking like a girl to counterpart your actions.”

Sanada flushed. “Shut up, Yukimura. It’s true, okay? So you’d better start acting like yourself tomorrow.”

“And you’d better start running more laps from tomorrow. 5 miles made you pant like an old man? Tarundorou!” said Yukimura, mockingly stern. “How do you expect to win Nationals for me with that sort of stamina, I wonder?”

Sanada snorted. “Let me guess, my form was terrible?” he asked dryly, using the paper towels to mop his brow which was still sweaty. 

Yukimura smiled. “You guessed it. Now come on, I’ll make you some hot chocolate then I’ll ask my parents to drive you home when they come back from grandma’s. It’s too cold outside.”

“Are you coming to school tomorrow?’ asked Sanada, as he rolled up the sleeves of his yukata and fanned himself slightly. 

“Probably not. Mum practically fainted when the doctor revealed what he thought. I’ll be home for at least a week before she thinks I’m not going to collapse randomly everywhere.” said Yukimura, as he filled up the kettle with water. “Once I’m free though, I’ll come back to tennis practice.”

Sanada pulled a face. “I’m not so sure that that’s a sensible idea, Yukimura.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Sanada!” exclaimed Yukimura, as he reached for the tea jar. “It’ll be fine!” 

At the moment, as he made to place the jar on the table, his arm froze up. His arm never reached the place it was supposed to go to and the tea jar smashed against the floor, sending tea leaves, packets of hot chocolate and shards of pottery everywhere. Yukimura stared at the mess and tried to move his arms. It was pointless. He couldn’t feel them and almost smacked himself with his useless appendages.

The shards had mostly managed to avoid him, but he had a variety of light cuts and scrapes along his feet and ankles. He was bleeding, but he couldn’t even feel it. Yukimura started hyperventilating. Shit, he was going to die, he was going to die, he couldn’t feel anything and he was scared and it wasn’t supposed to be like this—

Sanada had almost immediately moved to his side and sat him down at the kitchen table. He gripped Yukimura’s arms. “Tell me when you can feel my hands again.” said Sanada, his voice shaky and his face ashen. 

Yukimura brought himself back to reality. He couldn’t panic. He was buchou. If he panicked, what was the rest of the team going to think? He had to be strong for them. For Sanada, who looked like he was the one who’d just lost all sensation to his arms. “I currently can’t feel anything, Sanada. If this persists for five minutes or more, I will need you to call my parents and my doctor. They will wish to be informed.” He said, keepign his voice steady and authoritative.

Sanada’s eyes widened and his skin turned even paler, if that was possible. “Calm down, Sanada,” said Yukimura, rolling his eyes, “I’ll be fine. I don’t feel like dying today.”

Sanada gave him a skeptical look but continued to grip unto Yukimura’s arms. Finally, after twenty long seconds, Yukimura started to feel the feeling coming back to his arms. “I can feel.” he said, forcing a smile unto his face. “You can let go now, I’ll be fine.”

Sanada let go and nodded. “Just in case, though, I’ll make the tea.” 

Under any other circumstances Yukimura would have protested and the two of them would have bickered their way into a cup of tea and a cup of hot chocolate. But Yukimura couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the broken shards of the pottery that covered the floor. Sanada reheated the kettle and started to clean up the shards of pottery, by picking them up gingerly and stacking the pieces on the side of the kitchenette. 

Despite Sanada and the other members of his team accepting his lack of tennis, it didn’t really make him any less pathetic and useless. That had been the second thing he’d broken today, though the first one had been on purpose. It wasn’t coincidence. 

Yukimura was as broken as the phone and the pot. He was just as broken as those little pieces of plastic and terracotta and he was irreparable. _Guillain-Barre is an incurable disease_ , had the doctor said? 

And, as you did with all irreparably broken objects, he mused as Sanada placed the last of the shards inside the bin, he would be thrown out to rot and die. 

Owari.


	6. Concentration (Alpha)

January. To some, it was a month of enjoyment and freedom, because of the holidays granted for the New Year and Christmas. To third years at Junior High in Japan, however….

Yukimura sighed plaintively and flopped onto his back, dropping the history book onto his face, hoping that the sharp weight would wake him up. 

“Done already, Seiichi?” asked Sanada, sounding mildly amused and disapproving. Yukimura sent him a glare. He’d taken over the floor of Yukimura’s bedroom, with books, papers and his laptop, twenty different outlets for his attention to focus upon, and somehow, he seemed to be getting more of his practise essay written than Yukimura with his one book that should tell him all he needed to know.

“No. I doubt I ever will be, at this rate.” he answered, not bothering to remove the book from his face. 

“You could try actually reading it.” Sanada said dryly, as he adjusted his laptop’s screen. “That might help you.” 

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated, _Sanada_.” said Yukimura, as he let his head fall backwards and hit the edge of the bed. 

They’d been studying for three hours straight and Yukimura was pretty sure that the textbooks had sapped his will to live. Usually, their mega study sessions were done with either Yagyuu or Yanagi in tow, but Yagyuu had been abducted by Niou for the day and Yanagi was still in Sapporo, much to the annoyance of both he and Sanada.

“Take a break, Seiichi.” said Sanada, not looking up from his neat kanji. “Or you’ll never get anything done.” 

Yukimura sighed. He should. He usually never sat and studied for more than an hour on end…but at the same time, he didn’t want to be beaten out by Sanada’s concentration, which didn’t look fit to break just yet. There was a reason that Sanada was third in the whole school, losing out narrowly to Yagyuu and by a wide margin to Yanagi, who defied all expectations of the school. 

Yukimura wasn’t so bad himself, usually within the top twenty….but still, compared to the majority of his friends, it wasn’t great. It was why he usually instigated these study sessions, to try and figure out what it was that his friends were doing.

It wasn’t productive. All they did was focus and get it done. Nothing special. 

Yukimura wished he could have that sort of concentration, but when things didn’t interest him, it was hard to even muster the effort to pretend to care. Art, tennis, gardening, French, acting, song, cricket; those were the things that kept him completely fascinated. Yukimura excelled in those areas, people were hard-pressed to come close to rivalling him in areas that he cared about. 

He had no such care for Meiji Era History. However society had a care for passing exams like this, with flying colours. 

“I mean it, Seiichi.” said Sanada’s voice and Yukimura realized he’d been lying there idle, lost in his thoughts for too long.

“Hmm.” he said, as he flipped upwards, folding over the corner of the page that speaks about the prohibition of swords. “Perhaps I shall.”

Sanada nodded and went back to writing his neat kanji, his dark eyes focused entirely upon the paper, with a concentration that Yukimura envied. Except….he didn’t envy Sanada…he envied the book.

He sat up and watched Sanada at work. His neat, jet-black hair fell into his face as he worked, but Sanada seemed to be so deep in concentration that he didn’t even notice. His brows were knitted together, in a shape of concentration that was a near permanent affixture to Sanada’s face nowadays. Through the flimsy shirt, he could see the muscles of Sanada’s back knot from his hunched over position to write properly. 

His hands were perhaps the only part of him that were relaxed, and that was only to increase efficiency. As per usual, Sanada’s handwriting was impeccable, as expected from a master calligrapher. The smooth, waxy, black characters spilled up and down the page, in the traditional inscription, creating a contrast with the rough, white paper, a chiaroscuro so marked that Yukimura could see it from his vantage point on the bed. 

Yukimura wondered sometimes, what it would feel to have that concentration, that sharp gaze, focused entirely upon him. Even in tennis, when they played each other, Sanada’s focus was usually on the ball or his racket, even if there were those all-too-fleeting moments where their eyes met over the net and they understood each other perfectly. 

Sanada finally seemed to notice Yukimura’s gaze. “Is something the matter, Seiichi?” he asked, looking slightly confused, his brows reknitting from concentration to bemusement. 

“Not really.” said Yukimura, letting a faint smile play across his lips as he padded upwards and towards the door. “Did you want something from the kitchen?”

Sanada shook his head. “I’m fine.” 

Yukimura opened the door and quietly shut it behind him again. His house was empty, as per usual. His parents were never home and his younger sister was at a friend’s house, presumably to giggle at each other for a few more hours. He’d seen more of his family when he’d been ill than he’d usually seen of them. 

He walked to the fridge and pulled out some juice. He didn’t bother to grab a glass, drinking straight from the carton, not letting his lips touch the container. He wondered, as he placed the juice back in the fridge, why it was that he could muster the concentration to learn how to perfect a useless skill like that, yet could barely pull a passing grade in chemistry.

Concentration. Huh. 

He walked back to his room and opened the door again. Sanada hadn’t moved from his position, except he’d now started a new sheet. Yukimura smirked. He did wonder how long that concentration would last under duress….

He walked in and flopped behind Sanada, leaning his head on Sanada’s right shoulder, and twirling his arms around his neck. “Gen-ich-i-rou.” he drawled.

Sanada gave a long suffering sigh and turned around until he was somewhat facing Seiichi. “You’re in a strange mood today.” he said, finally. Yukimura was pretty sure that he’d been thinking about saying something else, but let it lie. Probably something about Yukimura calling him out to study and not studying at all. 

“Not really.” said Yukimura, easily. “Come play tennis with me.” he demanded. It was a little cold outside, but if they wore their jerseys they wouldn’t have any problems. 

“No.” refused Sanada. “I’ve got to finish this essay, and so do you.”

“Take a break, Genichirou.” said Yukimura, with a firm tone to his voice. “We’ve been working for two and a half hours straight on science and maths.” 

“No, I have to finish this.” he said, quite calmly, as his hands went back to writing the essay, if at a slower pace than before. 

“Not if I can help it.” said Yukimura lightly. “You’ll be coming out to play tennis with me.” 

Sanada’s pen paused and lifted away from the paper, by a couple of centimetres, sending a small smoky shadow across the page. “Make me.” he said, and there was a challenge infused in there.

They’d done this before. Yukimura would try to drag Sanada away from his work and he usually said, ‘make me’. Usually, this meant Yukimura tickling him, everywhere he knew that Sanada was sensitive. This had two outcomes. Either it worked and Sanada tickled him back, which usually ended up in their mutual collapse on the floor, all laughed out. Or, an increasingly common occurrence, of Sanada being able to ignore it completely until Yukimura gave it up as a lost cause and went back to working himself or to bother Yanagi who was much easier to distract.

Yukimura didn’t want the second option to happen. He wanted Sanada’s focus to be destroyed…or to be transferred to an alternate source.

He pulled his arms away from around Sanada’s neck. Instead of tickling Sanada’s sides, he merely splayed his fingers there softly, trailing them over the sensitive skin, covered only by the thin fabric of his shirt. He trailed circles all over Sanada’s skin and watched as Sanada stiffened. Yukimura trailed his hands slowly upwards, making sure to keep his touch light and fleeting. Like a gossamer caress. 

Sanada’s pen kept writing, but Yukimura took a savage pleasure in watching it go as shaky as Akaya’s best attempts. He blew a small shot of cold air against the skin on the back of Sanada’s neck and felt the shudder run through his best friend’s body. There were no words or reaction from Sanada however, as he continued to write his essay. 

Yukimura frowned. Seemed he’d have to increase his teasing. He bent down to reach the area between Sanada’s neck and shoulder, before slowly licking down to Sanada’s clavicle, relishing at the feel of firm skin against his tongue. The pen stopped scratching on paper. Good. 

“S-seiichi? What?” Sanada stammered. Yukimura just turned and licked Sanada’s adam’s apple. Sanada exhaled shakily and sent him a completely befuddled look. 

Yukimura met it with a small teasing bite, as he kneaded the skin on Sanada’s collar with his teeth gently. Sanada hissed and glared down at Yukimura, and Yukimura could only relish the burning fire of Sanada’s entire being focused upon Yukimura’s face. This was what he’d wanted. How satisfying. “W-w-what do you think you’re doing, Seiichi?” he hissed, his voice cracking a little. 

“Persuading you.” he said, quite calmly, as he licked the area he’d just bitten as a small apology. 

Sanada made a strangled sound. “You’re incorrigible, Seiichi.” he said finally. “That’s the truth.” He turned back to the work. “We need to finish the practise essays and problems before the end of the holidays. That’s in three days.” 

Yukimura grinned ferally. “You can spare an hour for a set. We’ve got all day, after all.” 

Sanada didn’t show any sign of having heard him. Yukimura pouted and slipped his hands underneath Sanada’s shirt and started running his hands along Sanada’s abdomen. Sanada groaned and Yukimura stopped. That...he hadn’t expected that. That had sent quite a rush to his head. Power. 

“S-s-seiichi.” he stuttered. “Stop.”

Yukimura blinked incredulously. Never once had Sanada ever said stop. When they were pushing themselves to the limit, it was always ‘feed me another ball’. When it was work, it was ‘I have more to do yet.’ When Yukimura had piled his burdens upon Sanada in the hospital, it was always, ‘I have room for more.’ And even in their friendship, there’d never been a stop once uttered, no matter what Yukimura had ever done. Just mild disapproval and amusement. 

He’d…he’d crossed a line. Sanada…would never feel that way. Yukimura would never feel Sanada’s eyes focused upon Yukimura entirely. And that thought…was painful. 

Yukimura slipped his hands away from Sanada and went back to his bed. “Essays to write.” he said, quietly, as he picked up the book. Somehow, it seemed even more difficult to study than before, but staring at the book was easier than looking at Sanada. 

“Seiichi?” asked Sanada, and his voice was confused and slightly hurt. 

“Didn’t you want to finish?” asked Yukimura, forcing a wide smile onto his face. “Somehow, I’ve got my verve back.” he said, not meeting Sanada’s gaze. 

He heard rustling from the other side of the room, but he ignored it in favour of his book. It wasn’t interesting in the slightest, but it was better than meeting Sanada’s eyes. “Seiichi.” Sanada was in front of him, perched on the end of his bed uncomfortably, tugging the book downwards so it couldn’t cover his face. “That…that was….did you mean it?” he asked, looking hesitant and confused and strangely hopeful. 

It was the hope that stopped Yukimura from outrightly denying it. “Yes.” he said, quietly. “Yes, I did.”

Sanada’s eyes widened and one of his ‘almost-smiles’ reached his face. Yukimura smiled. Yes. He…he wasn’t opposed.

Yukimura dropped the uninteresting history book and leant forward to kiss him. It was as awkward as most first kisses were, but at the same time, just Sanada’s chapped lips moving slightly against his and their noses brushing was enough to make it perfect. 

“Open your mouth.” said Yukimura, as Sanada pulled away, cheeks flushed and hair in his face again. “That’s how you kiss properly.” Yukimura extended a hand and brushed away the stray strands from Sanada’s face and tucked it behind Sanada’s ear. 

“Scoot over.” said Sanada, with another flush. “My knees are cramping.”

“Are they really? Old man.” teased Yukimura, as he scooted back until he was leaning on his pillows. “I thought you were supposed to be used to it with all that seiza you do.”

Sanada growled a little. “Old man.” he said, as he leant forward again. Yukimura looped his arms around Sanada’s neck as they kissed again. This time, it felt a lot more romantic, with their tongues clashing against each other, nervously exploring each others’ mouths. Still, when they pulled away, there was a lot of spit which both of them were wiping away.

“It definitely doesn’t happen like this in the movies.” said Sanada, his face almost tomato-red. 

“Well then,” said Yukimura, eyes intent upon Sanada. “Practise makes perfect.”

And when Sanada turned around to meet his gaze, his eyes burning with the one-minded passion and concentration that Yukimura had so envied the book for, he felt his breath being taken away. This was what he’d wanted.


	7. Jackal

The breeze blew softly across the Rikkai grounds. It was November and utterly freezing. Jackal glanced up as he walked onto the school grounds and pulled his scarf around him tighter. It was Wednesday, and they had morning tennis practise. Even though he was going to high school soon and should really have been studying, Yukimura refused to let go of the tennis club unless he absolutely had to...which Jackal agreed with. They'd worked so hard to get here and they'd brought Rikkai so high. Why let go so quickly?

Fuck, his hands were freezing. His gloves did absolutely nothing to keep away from cold zephyrs of wind, harshly sliding in through the small gaps in the woollen fabric. It was times like this that he missed Brazil. He had lived in Japan since fifth grade, but he still wasn't quite used to the weather here. 

The warmth and heat and the passion that emanated from Brazil...yeah, he missed that sometimes.

People here could be so cold. So unfriendly. It was heartbreaking to see and experience really. People had always said that Japanese were polite to a fault, but there was a difference between being polite to someone and being nice. Jackal hadn't really realized that before coming to Japan. He'd just always been the overly friendly _halfu_ in elementary school.

He would have continued to be that if Bunta hadn't latched onto him. And maybe Bunta had done it for more selfish purposes than to make Jackal feel less isolated, but Jackal was happy to help Bunta, because he'd gained so much from it. Maybe a little exasperated when he ended up doing everything all the time, but it was worth it to see Bunta's face light up after a long day of looking after his little brothers, to have Jackal treat him to ice-cream or indulge his playing whims. 

Besides, he'd joined Rikkai thanks to Bunta's friendship. And he'd made friends with Yukimura and Yanagi, two people he really appreciated in class, who were always helping him understand Japanese slang and make more friends. Sanada too, perhaps the only other person who came running with him during free practises and was able to keep up with him. 

Well no, it was unfair of him to play favourites; he liked everybody in the team. Even Niou. Especially when Niou had covered his locker in silly string. Jackal sighed and slowly pulled off his gloves and massaged feeling back into them, digit by digit. It was strange though...the tennis locker room was deserted. He had arrived his usual time...so everybody must have either arrived earlier...or later. 

Earlier, it had to be. The locker room door was open, which meant at least Sanada was already here. And Niou too. But Niou hated going out to the courts early, so why wasn't he here? "Niou?" called Jackal hesitantly. But he got no response, so he supposed his teammate was running laps on the indoor court or something. 

Jackal got to work with pulling away the silly string from the front door of his locker. It was tedious work, especially with his fingers not wanting to cooperate. A small barrage of chocolate exploded from it as soon as he pulled the door open and Jackal blinked. What? He hadn't even gotten this many valentine sweets!

He picked one up and examined it. They were expensive chocolates too! Godiva, Ferrero Rocher(his favourite) and Lindt. Jackal smiled softly. He didn't know who'd done it, but he appreciated it. He had as much of a sweet tooth as Bunta, even if he didn't actively crave sugar. Still, he couldn't eat all of this by himself. He'd have to ask Bunta or Akaya to help him. Maybe he could share it with the whole team? 

He placed all the chocolate into a plastic bag and got changed quickly. It was close to starting time and there was still a shortage of people, which meant that Jackal was probably late and missed the memo to an earlier practise. He sighed. Usually, Yagyuu was kind enough to remind him. Maybe Yagyuu had forgotten too...? Fat chance. 

He pushed open the door to the indoor courts and blinked as streamers exploded in his face. "Happy Birthday Jackal!" screamed a cacophony of voices, in both english and japanese! Jackal gaped for a moment, before grinning. It was his birthday, wasn't it? He'd quite forgotten! Usually his mother said something!

"Thank you, everybody!" he said, with a grin. 

Yukimura came up and hugged him. "Since you usually do so much for the tennis team, we thought we'd celebrate your birthday." 

Yagyuu came up with a huge box. "Here, it's all the presents from the Regulars. The sweets were from the non-regulars." 

Jackal was still in shock. He...hadn't expected it all. Sometimes it felt like what he did was forgotten by people. Apparently not. "Thanks Yagyuu." he said, picking up the box, with a grin. 

"I made a cake for you as well, firekin!" yelled Marui. "Hurry up before Aka-chan eats it all!"

"I'm not going to eat it all! It's way more likely you'd eat it, fattie-senpai!" retorted Akaya, who had come up to hug Jackal. "Thanks for always helping me with homework, senpai." 

Jackal ruffled Akaya's hair with one hand as he walked over to where the cake was being handed out. "My pleasure, kiddo. You want to head to the arcade this evening? My treat."

"But it's your birthday!" said Akaya, looking confused. "I'll pay!" 

"I enjoy paying. Besides, what else would I spend my allowance on?" asked Jackal, with an amused laugh. 

Akaya grinned. "You're the best, senpai! I'm going to beat your pants on DDR!"

"Like you could, Aka-baka." said Niou. "I've still got high score, remember?"

"Shut up Niou-senpai!" yelled Akaya, as he ran off to assault him. Jackal almost went over to split them up...but settled for laughing instead. Sanada would assign laps soon. It was fine.

It might have been cold outside, and Jackal's hands may have still been numb, but inside, he was feeling warm and loved...so that was okay. Japan's weather could be tolerable with friends.


	8. Mountains Bring Hope (Gen)

“Fukubuchou, I’m cold.” complained Akaya, as he rubbed at his arms. 

Sanada just sighed as he adjusted his backpack over his back. “It’s four in the morning on the first day of January and we’re half-way up a 3000 foot mountain. Of course it’s going to be cold. I told you to dress warm. You should have brought an extra jacket.”

Akaya pouted and kept walking, quite a distance from Sanada. Probably grumbling, knowing the younger member. Sanada frowned. “Walk faster, it’ll warm you up.”

The younger teen frowned again, but hastened to obey. At least he followed instructions, if a little reluctantly. “This headlight makes us look stupid.” he commented, as he caught up to Sanada’s longer strides, his boots crunching down on a patch of wildflowers. 

Sanada took a deep, long-suffering breath.No slapping. The momentum would send Akaya off the mountain path and Sanada did not want Akaya dead. Why had Akaya been the only Rikkai member who hadn’t gone away for the New Year except Renji, who was keeping an eye on Yukimura? “They help us see through the darkness. And since they’re on our heads, we can use our hands to actually help us walk. Unless you’d like to fall down the 3000ft mountain because you had a torch in your hands.” He then turned to look at Akaya. “Why does it matter anyway? We’re in the middle of nowhere, at a god-forsaken hour. Who exactly is going to see us?”

Akaya scowled. “It’s the principle of it. We looks like dweebs.” At Sanada’s glare though, he shut up. Then he paused, after a couple of minutes and looked at Sanada with concern. “It’s not really god-forsaken, is it? Because that would mean this whole thing was pointless.”

Sanada shook his head. “It’s just a phrase. God never truly leaves anyone.”

“That can’t be true.” said Akaya, his lip bit. “Or else buchou wouldn’t be in a coma.” 

Sanada’s eyes shut, momentarily. Yukimura had been admitted to the hospital for Guillain Barre near the end of October and had been going through treatments with relative cheerfulness, for someone who’d been diagnosed with a life-long illness. And then, things had turned for the worse in the first week of December. His condition had dramatically worsened and he’d slipped into a coma. The doctors hadn’t worried for the first week, but as the month had drawn to a close, they’d started despairing about his weakening vitals. 

“God never abandoned Yukimura. He just temporarily lost his focus on Yukimura.” said Sanada, firmly. He couldn’t afford to believe anything else. 

“So we’re going to bring it back to buchou by climbing?” asked Akaya skeptically. 

Sanada rolled his eyes. “It’s the notion of sacrifice to achieve hatsumode, Akaya. The first day of the year is more auspicious than others and if we submit or wish to God by sacrificing our energy, our sleep, our sweat, our determination and our love, God has no choice but to listen.” He paused and took a deep breath in. He didn’t know that for sure, but he had to keep hoping. He had to trust in the divine. 

Akaya swallowed and nodded. “Your grandpa said that, right?”

Sanada nodded. He wasn’t quite as eloquent as that on a daily basis. “Yeah, pretty much, I adlibbed a little, but the general gist was from grandfather.”

The younger boy frowned. “Why believe at all?”

Sanada sighed,. He was reluctant to answer all of Akaya’s questions, just because they were so tiring, but he had nothing better to do while they were climbing, and if he could instill a little more cultural understanding in Akaya, it wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Belief is powerful. Faith has always driven humans to achieve the impossible.” said Sanada, quietly. “In the case of my grandfather, it was after a miracle. My grandmother was always just a little frail, a little weak, even as a kid, but she was beautiful and my grandfather married her. But after she had children, she started to deteriorate. She started finding it difficult to walk, to eat, to do anything really except lie in bed.”

And didn’t that remind them both of someone else who was slowly dying?

“Then she was discovered to be pregnant with my father. There were complications and it looked set to be that both of them would die. My grandfather couldn’t take it, just sitting there and being helpless. He lived closer to the sea at the time, so he ran out to the water and started swimming out. Maybe around fifteen or sixteen miles, nonstop, until he was so exhausted he could have drowned had the water not been so calm. And it was here, he stopped and looked up and yelled to the skies ‘Take me! Take me if it is a life you need. Just spare her and my child. Take all of me. It’s worth nothing without them.’”

Sanada paused for breath, as they started to climb a steeper part of the mountainside. Akaya frowned. “Then what? You can’t just stop!” he gestured wildly. Then he screamed, as he lost his balance and slipped back off the path. Sanada immediately snapped out his hand to grip Akaya’s wrist.

They hung there for a couple of seconds, as Akaya breathed erratically. “Relax.” instructed Sanada, frowning. “I’ve got you. You won’t fall. Find your footing again.”

Akaya nodded nervously and manoeuvred about for a bit, until he wasn’t relying on Sanada’s grip so much. “Can you climb back up to the path?” asked Sanada, not letting go of Akaya’s wrist.

"I think so.” said Akaya. "You can let go now, I can’t climb when you’re holding that tightly.” 

Sanada cautiously let go and didn’t stop worrying until Akaya was back on the path and gripping onto the back of Sanada’s backpack. “Now,” said Sanada, with a slight smirk. “Aren’t you glad that you were wearing a headlight?”

Akaya pouted petulantly. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I get it. You were right, I was wrong. Just get on with the story.” 

Sanada shook his head, but continued climbing, if a little slower. “At that point, the sea got more stormy and my grandfather was swept up by the sea. But instead of being dragged out to sea further. he was washed up right back on the same beach he’d started from. The chances of that were nearly impossible, you understand.” They’d all learnt about how the tides worked when they were very young. “And he was filled with an energy he’d not had before and he ran back to his house. And grandmother had managed to give birth successfully and felt a lot more energetic for it. It had seemed completely impossible before grandfather had gone out, but she’d lived anyway.”

Akaya’s eyes widened. “So he prayed and it actually worked?”

“He sacrificed his energy and his determination and hope and she was revived.” Not for long though. She’d died around five years later, from consumption. But it was better to not mention that or even think about that. He had to believe that Yukimura would completely heal. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost his very best friend so quickly. 

Akaya nodded. “So we’re going to try and do that.”

Sanada nodded. “Belief is powerful.”

They fell into silence as they climbed some more. It really was beautiful, despite the lack of light. Though, now Sanada was thinking about that, it seemed a little lighter on the horizon. The blackness was fading away to a duller blue. Sunrise would be in another hour or so. They would perhaps reach the top by then.

“Have you done this before then, fukubuchou?” asked Akaya, who was panting for breath and clutching the sides of the mountain for support. “Climb a mountain?”

Sanada shook his head, feeling a lot less out of breath than Akaya seemed to be. He’d been recommended several times by Tezuka and his grandfather, but no, he’d never gone himself. He’d always been too busy and he’d never needed to pray like this. His belief was in replacing the spirit wards around his room regularly and visiting the temple at least once a month. “Never had the time or needed to.”

Akaya nodded and frowned. ‘How do you have so much stamina then?”

“I sprint almost five miles a day.” said Sanada, rolling his eyes. Akaya had eyes, didn’t he? It wasn’t like Sanad hid the fact that he came into school early to get in more laps before everybody and then did everyone’s laps with them, ”Walking up a mountain isn’t as bad.”

Akaya pouted and they fell into silence again. Then his head whirled around. “It’s buchou.” he said, with a hushed voice. 

“No, it isn’t.” said Sanada, regretfully. “He’s back in that hospital room. Even if he’s awake, he’ll still be there. They won’t let him out just like that, New Years or not. It’s an illusion. You’re seeing things.”

“He’s telling me that he wants me to meet him at the top. To play a game.” said Akaya, in a hushed voice. “He says I could beat him at my current state.” 

“He wants to meet you at the top of the mountain.” said Sanada, firmly. “Come on. Keep climbing.” He had a really bad feeling about this. Especially when he heard childish laughter from behind him. Familiar laughter.

He whirled around and stared at the ten year old figure of Yukimura, smiling angelically at him. “Ne Genichirou? You’ll be my best friend forever, right? You’ll follow me anywhere? Come with me!” He offered up a small, pale hand, already callused with the hard work of tennis and cricket and Sanada felt the pull to follow, as he always had, from the moment they’d met.

But it was wrong. Yukimura looked too beautiful, too pale, too ethereal. Too perfect. His best friend was human. They argued, fought, cried and laughed together. This person was unattainable and was playing on his own hero-worship of his best friend, to try and deceive him.

“No.” he said, calmly. “I’ll always be your best friend. But that involves saving your life by walking up this mountain.” If anything, this _thing_ appearing showed him that something was at the top of the mountain. That it was worth the climb. There was a god or something that could help up there. 

He gripped the back of Akaya’s jacket and started pulling him from where he was rooted to the spot. Once they had moved about three feet, Akaya gasped and came out of whatever trance he’d been in. The only thing that Sanada could notice, was how his eyes, which had been steadily turning redder, were coming back to normal. The younger boy blinked. “He....what was that?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. It wasn’t Yukimura, though.” said Sanada, grimly. “We’ve got to walk faster. That thing might come back again.”

Akaya nodded and they practically started jogging up the mountainside path. “It’s getting brighter.” said Akaya, in a hushed voice. “Kaa-san never actually let me do Hatsuhinode before this. Didn’t think I was responsible enough.” 

“I wonder why.” said Sanada, dryly. Akaya pouted and hit his shoulder. It was now noticeable how the sun was coming up. It felt like an eternity ago when Sanada had been watching the midnight fireworks from out of his window and decided to go on this desperate crusade. “We’re almost there.” he said to Akaya, with an almost content look. “We’re past the worst of it.”

Akaya beamed and Sanada couldn’t help but smile back, just a little. The temple was visible now, the bright red torii gates and the stairs visible in the distance. They sped up, until they reached the staircase. For some reason, the temple was almost completely empty. A few priests here and there, but Sanada supposed the majority of people wouldn’t follow hatsumode at night on such dangerous terrain. 

They removed their shoes and bowed to the stone guardians of the temple before entering. 

Sanada went straight to the purification fountain and scooped some water up into his cupped hands. He then rinsed his mouth and spat it back out, as was custom for purification. Akaya looked curious and Sanada guided him through it. He knew a lot of people didn’t follow purification anymore, something that his grandfather had lamented. 

“Have you got some coins?” asked Sanada, as they straightened up and went to go to the main shrine. 

Akaya nodded. “We burning incense, fukubuchou?” Sanada nodded and walked up to the old priest next to the incense. Sanada handed over the money and lit the bundle, mouthing a few prayers and then waved it out. Akaya wafted smoke over to the both of them and they walked toward the actual temple. 

They both clasped their hands in prayer and Sanada said the words, but could only think of Yukimura as he was, bright and happy, as he spoke them. They threw a few large coins into the box and Sanada prayed again, with all his heart and soul. They then walked away from the shrine, with lighter hearts. 

A old priest stopped them for a second and Sanada felt drawn to him. It was weird, but he felt brighter, more alive than some of the other priests in the area. “It is rare to see boys your age come alone do perform Hatsumode.”

Sanada nodded respectfully. “We had an important thing to pray for.”

“And what was that? Victory? New shoes? Better grades?” he asked, cheerfully.

“The life of our friend.” said Akaya, looking away. 

The old priest looked serious. “Is that so?”

“He has so much more to offer to the world. And he was slowly dying, but now it’s been shortened even more, in his coma.” said Sanada, unable to explain why he was pouring out his heart to an unknown priest. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“A worthy prayer.” said the priest bowing his head. “It shall be granted.”

Sanada and Akaya blinked. That was...strange. The old priest nodded, then hobbled away. Sanada walked over to where their shoes were and he and Akaya exchanged looks in silence. Sanada breathed slowly, feeling calmer than ever,

And then, his phone started ringing. He got glares from other priests and Sanada bowed frantically to everybody and practically tripped over his own feet to get out of the temple grounds to answer the phone call.

“This is Sanada, what is it?” he demanded at the phone as he and Akaya made their way back down the mountain.. 

“Genichirou,” said Renji’s voice, with the biggest smile in his tone that Sanada had ever heard. “Seiichi’s woken from his coma, asking about everybody. He's hungry and he wants to see the fireworks.”

Sanada paused and Akaya stared. “What is it, fukubuchou?”

Sanada just grinned at him, unable to stop his joy. Akaya grinned back, immediately understanding what had happened. Sanada clutched the phone and sunk to his knees, unable to stop the joyful tears escaping from his eyes. Yukimura was awake. There was hope still for him. 

“Thank you.” he whispered, softly to God, then laughed loudly. “THANK YOU!!!!!!!”


	9. Sky-Blue

The first thing that Yukimura noticed upon stepping off the plane was how much lighter the air in America was. The humidity that was so noticeable through Japan, was nearly non-existent and even the light tang of pollution, that usually permeated from the tip of his tongue downwards, was completely gone. America was cleaner, lighter and Yukimura felt refreshed, despite the excruciatingly long plane-flight. 

“It’s perfect tennis weather, ne Sanada?” he asked, as they walked towards Customs. 

Sanada nodded. “We’ll crush all of the opposition. Even Seigaku.”

“Yeah, we’re not losing here, buchou.” said Akaya, as he grinned. “It’s so sunny!”

“It’s a nice wind-speed as well. 15 degrees west, at approximately 20mph. It’s good tennis weather.” said Yanagi, as they entered the main building. All of them groaned at the long Customs line. They had dawdled too much on exiting the plane.

“Okay,” said Yukimura, as they shuffled into line. “Yagyuu, you and Sanada stand first. Once you two get through, go start finding and loading our baggage on the carousel. Niou, Jackal, you two go next and once you two are done in customs, go to Oversized Baggage and get our rackets. Renji, Bunta, you two are in charge of finding our host and the sign for Rikkaidai. Akaya, you’re with me.” said Yukimura, and everybody switched places accordingly. 

Yukimura breathed out a little and pulled out his passport and papers. While wearing their disgusting yellow jackets on the flight had gained them all some weird looks, it was worth it to make sure he could keep track of his members. He’d see his members anywhere in the airport, even if he lost them. It had been useful in the Japan airport, when they’d been waiting an hour through their delay and his teammates had gone wandering. 

Akaya was frowning at his papers but before Yukimura had to step in and explain, Yanagi smiled at him and took over. Yukimura grinned back at him and let his gaze drift back out to the window. Nearly all of the members had their gaze on the outside world, through the large window. The sky was intoxicatingly clear and blue. 

It was wonderful. Even France hadn’t had such nice weather. They would smash Seigaku and all of the other countries gathered at this junior tournament, there was no doubt anymore.

Yukimura found sublime irony in the fact that Echizen was not in fact, on Seigaku anymore, but on the Western American Team against Seigaku in the first round. The ‘Prince of Tennis’ would either not be able to play for the rest of tournament, or see his old nakama eliminated in the first round. 

When Yagyuu was first called, Yukimura’s gaze snapped away from the window and back towards the front. Customs was moving quickly today and Yukimura didn’t want to get in trouble in a foreign country, especially since his English wasn’t quite as good as his French. As distracted as he was by imagining how the foreign breeze would feel against his racket and his sweat-covered face, it really wasn’t the time. 

“Remember Akaya,” said Yukimura, remembering exactly how _bad_ Akaya’s english had been when they’d been tutoring him. “Don’t panic and don’t speak more than necessary. Okay? No disgrace to Rikkai.” 

Akaya nodded as Yukimura was called up and Yukimura smiled pleasantly at the teller, as he handed over his passport. “How are you doing sir? Welcome to the United States.” she said, as she read through his visas and papers. “First time in the country?”

“Yes ma’am.” answered Yukimura. “It’s beautiful here.” 

She smiled at him. “And how long will you be here?”

“Two weeks.” said Yukimura, remembering the advice to keep their answers concise. Good, he didn’t think he could manage long and complicated sentences in English. 

“And what’s the purpose of your trip?” she asked.

Yukimura translated the sentence in his head and smiled upon comprehension. “Me and my team are playing in a tennis tournament here.” 

She nodded and looked down again. “Where will you be staying while here?”

Again, translation took a longer but Yukimura got it. “I will be staying at the International Sports Centre in Los Angeles.” he said, with a small smile. It was supposed to be a beautiful place with almost 30 practise courts alone. 

“And where do you live in Japan?” asked the officer and Yukimura rattled off his address in Kanagawa. He was tempted to say Sanada’s house since he spent more time there anyway, but refrained. He doubted she’d understand the joke. 

She nodded and stamped his passport. “That all seems to be in order I just need your fingerprints and picture before you can move on. Just to check, you are older than 14 years of age?”

Yukimura frowned. Her sentence structures were so strange to him. That made his translation that little bit slower. “I am fourteen.” he said, quietly. He couldn’t help but worry for Akaya. If he was having this much trouble, how was Akaya doing? He should have got Akaya to accompany him. 

She nodded. “That’s fine, I still need your prints.” 

He pressed his fingers against the scanner slowly, feeling more than a little awkward as he did so. It felt strange and he’d never done it before. He’d heard that the US were strict about entering the country, but he hadn’t expected this. 

Still, he was cleared promptly after the scanner snapped a picture of him and he headed towards the contingent of yellow that was waiting around the carousel. Akaya was already there with Yagyuu and Sanada. But Yanagi and Marui were also there. Yukimura frowned. “What happ–”

“Immigrations still.” said Yanagi. “They have to inspect our luggage to make sure we aren’t smuggling food into the country.” 

“Food....” said Marui, paling. “Umm...I packed sweets. Like lots of them. How much trouble would I be in?”

“Not much, as long as you don’t have fresh fruit or vegetables.” said Niou, as he hauled out four racket bags to the floor. Yukimura was reminded that Niou’s rich parents often took him on business trips to America when there were small breaks during the year. “Packed food is usually good. Unless you have a fresh cake in there or something, gum and sweets will pass through just fine.” 

“Nah, cake would have gone bad through the flight.” said Marui, relaxing a little. Jackal dumped his load of racket bags to the floor as well and everyone grabbed their respective tennis bags.

“Yukimura-kun.” said Yagyuu. “What did your suitcase look like again?”

“It’s blue and green. And has a tennis-ball strap around it.” said Yukimura, as he peeked at the luggage carousel. “Did you see it yet?”

“Not yet. It should circle back around though. I have everyone else’s however.” said Sanada, as he grabbed a black and red suitcase from the carousel easily and heaved it up onto the trolley as if it weighed nothing. Yukimura’s gaze flitted away to the window again. He was distracted today, he decided. The weather was simply too nice. 

He yearned to play tennis, in a fully recovered state. Without his limbs still trembling, without being on a cocktail of several painkillers and without the fear of fainting still on his mind. The kind of peace he’d returned to here, in another country with bluer skies. He was stronger than Nationals. Harder, leaner, more determined to win.

He wondered if he’d meet any of his opponents-to-be here. It would be a story for the newspapers, if he made it pro. Rivals since childhood. 

“Buchou?” asked Akaya, tapping his arm and Yukimura jumped. It looked like Sanada and the others had already started walking and his suitcase was perched on the top of the trolley.

“Sorry Akaya.” he said, as they jogged to catch up. ‘I was wondering whether the grass courts here will be anything like Wimbledon.”

“Nothing’s like english courts, according to the Williams sisters.” said Yanagi, as they joined another queue for immigration. 

Yukimura shrugged and grinned. “It’ll be nice and different here. Everyone knows who they’re rooming with, right?”

He was with Sanada, Yanagi was with Marui, Yagyuu and Jackal...and then there was Niou and Akaya, which was a recipe for disaster. He sighed and at Sanada’s look, he turned around. “Akaya, you and Niou will never be rooming unless I want the hotel to explode.” he said, flatly. “Jackal, do you mind rooming with Akaya? Yagyuu, you and Niou, please.” 

Yagyuu nodded and adjusted his glasses, while Jackal sighed a little, but nodded. When Akaya wasn’t looking, Yukimura mouthed _I’ll make it up to you_ to Jackal. Jackal nodded a little and Yukimura exhaled as their suitcases passed through the scanners without much fanfare. There was his confirmation that Niou hadn’t been silly enough to bring fireworks along with him and that Marui’s food didn’t break any rules. 

They’d got a comment about their uniform in the way of a joke and Yagyuu had been kind enough to translate that the immigration officer had wondered whether they were lemons entering the country and whether they should be detained. It was with a thin laugh that Yukimura responded and moved along. They were useful, damnit! Even if they were ridiculously ugly. 

"Seigaku aren't around, I can't see their jerseys." said Marui, looking around.

"That's because they came by a week earlier. Their coach was kind enough to bargain them that much time off school because of their victory." said Yanagi and Yukimura grimaced. Their headmaster, who usually bent over backwards for the tennis team, had been rather less generous, since they'd lost. They would have trouble with jetlag if they played today.

"Not fair!" groaned Marui, rolling his eyes. 

"That's just our luck." said Niou, as they walked through the moving escalator-corridors. 

Finally, finally, they were out in the main glass airport area and Yukimura breathed out. He felt alive again. After going half a year since his surgery, he finally felt like he’d escaped Guillain-Barre, And he knew without a doubt that this was what he wanted to do. Travel the world to play tennis and find those other blue skies, those havens in other countries. He’d confirmed that yes, he was cut out to be a tennisplayer. He didn’t care about his parents and their overprotectiveness anymore. He wanted to be a tennisplayer, more than anything, to escape the overwhelming weight of his illness. 

He grinned at Yanagi who smiled back. “Found him.” the willowy teen said, pointing at a sign with Rikkai’s name on it in katakana. 

Yukimura nodded and strode towards the man holding the sign, Sanada at his right and Yanagi at his left. He bowed smoothly and the whole team mimicked in perfect unison. “My name is Yukimura Seiichi and I am the captain of Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku Chuu’s tennis club. Please take care of us.” he said, in a unaccented english that he’d been practising. 

“It’s a pleasure to have you.” said the man, with a small smile and Yukimura grinned. Seigaku here or not, jetlag or not they would win this tournament, blessed as they were by the cerulean blue skies.


	10. Gentlemen's Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cricket runs in my blood. I suck at the game, but every indian or desi has just a little bit of love for it. And the moment that Yukimura's fanbook said that one of his hobbies was playing cricket, I actually squeaked a little and started planning this drabble.

There’s a certain irony, Yukimura muses, in calling tennis and cricket _gentlemen’s games_. There is very little gentlemanly about them in this day and age. The professional players play for money, not for the passion and the stringent laws and honour codes of the past are more like guidelines to people who do not know that there are limits to how you treat people.

It is worse in cricket than it is in tennis; Yukimura can count on one hand the people he knows that play for the love of the game, in the professional world. It is why Yukimura has never had any illusions about going into cricket for a career. He loves the game, but he would meet no challenges, not like he would, if he pursued tennis. 

Tennis lives brightly, but not vicariously. Tennis is filled with bright new people who play the game and follow the rules. Cricket wouldn’t offer him that. 

Still, simple games of cricket like this, playing the ‘amateur’ team against the Rikkai club; those are fun. 

He rubs the ball against his white jersey and grins. The white headband holds back his hair as per usual, and he takes the run-up, letting his arm swing in a full whippet circle, viciously bowling the ball towards the somewhat scared-looking batsman. His form is perfect, and it’s aimed right for the stumps, where the batsman is not quite defending. 

The batsman is bowled out almost instantly and Yukimura grins harshly, as the hapless player is whapped around the head by a flying stump. Moron. 

“Nice one, Yukimura!” He’s embraced by a classmate and clapped on the back by the other challengers.

“Let’s smash them.” says Yukimura, smiling sweetly, as he nudges his headband back up. 

Gentleman’s game. What a laugh. 

Perhaps the only game that Yukimura could actually call a gentleman’s game was golf, simply because it was against yourself and not another person. Any game where you directly faced your opponent and saw the whites of their eyes: it could never be called a game of the cool, unattached gentleman that the europeans so valued.

Tennis and Cricket were battles: not sports, not games, not something trivial that could be easily brushed away. The passion involved in tennis and cricket instantly stops them from remaining a gentlemen’s games. 

“Hah!” he yells as he bowls again, creating the perfect spin, leading to the next batsman to awkwardly lob it upwards. And Marui is waiting, catching the potshot easily, with a lackadaisy grin. Another one of the Rikkai cricket club down, to the so-called ‘challengers’.

There are more cheers, for both he and Marui and they wink at each other, before Yukimura laughs, just a little cruelly. He is barely into his first over in this game, and there are already two out. 

He turns to the audience and see the majority of the tennis club watching, Sanada’s just shaking his head, looking amused. They always have a laugh about his perfect aim in cricket and how some batsmen just cower instead of defend, in fear of being hit, even though the rules clearly state that it’s forbidden to hit the player with the ball.

Yukimura operates differently. Other people also discard those trappings of a gentlemen’s game, but in the wrong way. Rules are rules. A true player loves the game, follows the rules and still scares the opponent into pulp. But some people forget that. 

Yanagi is smirking a little as Yukimura rubs the ball against his jersey, with a knowing look etched on his face. Yukimura is reminded that Yanagi has never seen him play before, and that is probably why he is in such a smug state. Probably trying to take data to predict Yukimura again. 

Yukimura throws Yanagi a challenging look, before taking the run-up again on the nod from the umpire. He bowls a low, slow shot, something the opponent isn’t expecting. A haphazard rolling shot trundles along the ground, and the cautious batsmen only dare to try for one run before planting themselves at the wickets. 

Yukimura catches the ball thrown over to him with a disappointed look at the batsman directly across from. The Cricket Club member shrugs nonchalantly, as Yukimura makes the run-up, with a low, but fast shot this time. The member is a little more ready than his compatriot, and it flies long and high, much to Yukimura’s consternation. 

As he tracks the ball, he catches a small glimpse of Kirihara looking more than a tad interested. Yukimura had almost considered asking Kirihara to join the challenger team with him, but had eventually decided that despite his amazing aim, Kirihara was more likely to try and hit the other players and ignore the the wickets. 

Niou’s eyes are sparkling as he mutters to a bored looking Yagyuu, as Yukimura catches the ball headed in his direction. Yukimura feels almost a little snubbed, and finds himself thinking uncomplimentary things about golf in his head. It isn’t exactly the most active or even a sport where drive or determination is important. It is cold, just like Yagyuu always tries to be. 

He catches himself before he can think anything else unpleasant, however. Happy thoughts mean a happier person. He and Shiraishi had agreed nicely about that. He bowls, hard and fast. His fifth shot in the over surprises the batsmen so much that he just swats it and it scores a four.

Yukimura frowns. His over is almost done. He needs to make it count. He takes a deep breath, gathering reassurance from his teammates. This was no gentleman's game. There was passion and love and light and most of all, it wasn’t cold. He kisses the ball and flicks his wrist into a hard, fast spin-ball.

The batsman panics and hits a weak rolling shot and runs, despite his partner telling him not to, and the other is forced to run to stay in the game. But it’s all just a farce, because Yukimura just catches the ball passed to him by an amused Jackal and neatly taps it against the wicket just before the man can reach the wickets. 

That is his third out in a single over. Six balls, three outs. He raises his hands high and grins. Tennis is his life, but cricket is a passion. He’s the child of god because he’s good at everything he puts his mind to.


	11. Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of violence in this one. Graphic description. Avoid if you don't like it.

It is the dawn of a new day and Sanada has been out here with his most loyal fighters for most of yesterday and through the night. They are all tired, but they are drawing closer to their target. It is a low person who thinks that they can get away with attempting to murder the six year old Sanada Sasuke, who is set to take over the Sanada lordship. Of course, they did not murder him thanks to a clever set-up to prevent just that, and Sanada was out to gain revenge for his nephew. 

“Silence now.” says Sanada to his slowly muttering troop. There would be no mistakes here because of a word too much. Luckily, they are well-trained and instantly fall silent. 

They creep towards the clearly visible fire and wait until they seem fully absorbed in the act of eating. His men look hungry, but Sanada will let them go after this is done. Though, he wonders whether his appetite will be up to eating after the slaughter that is sure to follow. He administers all justice for his older brother, but it does not mean that he enjoys the murder of humans. 

He is a human, after all.

He draws his faithful katana and makes a smooth motion forward, before they all run forward. They are not silent now, and managed to kill around twenty of the enemy before the attempted murderers gather their wits and start to fight back. He recognises a few of the company that fight against Sanada’s trained troops and is disappointed to note that they are people he know, from the capital. 

He stabs furiously, with little remorse, but they are putting up a good fight. They were not so occupied with the drink and food as he had hoped. Sanada growls as he uses the butt of his sword to knock out one person and stab another, before stabbing the knocked out one. There is blood all over his yukata; he will have to burn it before he returns back to their palace. 

However, to his shock, his soldiers are being overwhelmed. Sanada growls and fights harder, the blood of many more of the company splattering his clothes. And then suddenly, he is stabbed in his leg. He stumbles and falls, refusing to let go of his katana. He will not fall and die so easily. It is not a fatal wound, anyway.

He stabs up at the foreign soldiers who come near him and soon there, is an almost circle of wide berth around him, since he cannot move. Sanada growls in frustration again. This is not good. They are losing, badly. 

And then...the enemy soldiers start dropping like flies, for no reason. Sanada grits his teeth and sighs, dropping his katana, with an annoyed face. They have won, but it is some victory, where his soldiers do little to cement the victory. He hates this part. He always has and he always will. 

His soldiers glance around, in confusion, but Sanada looks to the hills. A small figure in yellow and black descends from the trees, as if floating. Everyone stares at him as he passes by, his blue hair curling and floating around his face. He looks angelic, untouched by the bloody war around them. He draws to a halt in front of Sanada and smiles, his pale beautiful face looking even more beatific.

“You didn’t need to intervene.” Sanada says, between gritted teeth. “I had it sorted.” 

The man tilts his head, looking slightly confused. “But you’re on the floor and injured. And your soldiers were losing.” His voice sounds just a little different from a normal human voice. There is a tone that is somewhat different, that makes his voice sound like temple bells. 

“I could dealt with it myself.” grumbles Sanada, as he stabs his katana into the floor and uses it as a crutch upwards. His leg throbs and he can feel the blood leaking out slowly. 

“If you had taken your brother’s place, you could have prevented this.” says the other-worldly being, his voice growing a little colder. 

“He’s my older brother. It’s his birthright. I will not murder him or depose him. I am still human.” says Sanada firmly. “Now make yourself useful and heal me.” 

The other-worldly being just smirks and touches Sanada’s shoulders. Sanada screams in pain as the leg rights itself in fell swoop. His soldiers look on in horror. Sanada pants as he places the leg on the floor. He can walk again. That is worth the pain and the sweat gathering on his brow. 

“You prevented infection this time, right?” he demands, as he pulls his katana out of the ground and pushes it back into it’s sheath, vowing to clean it later. He remembers the last time that he being had healed him and how he’d battled an invisible infection for two whole weeks. 

The man smiles, slightly nastily. “But of course.” he says, his voice like bells again. “You made such a fuss last time. I’d rather prevent that.”

Sanada just scowls at him and summons his troops, with a loud bellow. The survivors all gather around him, looking just a bit worn for the wear. “We’re done here. You can all go home and take a break. I’ll meet you all back in the capital in a week’s time. Do what you need to. If you’re injured, please get treated. You’re dismissed.”

The less loyal start to scatter away but his friends come closer. Marui frowns and glances back at the angelic being who is currently gazing at a dismembered dead body with the curiousity of a child, completely uninterested in Sanada’s affairs with his soldiers. “Are you sure...?” asks Marui, not taking his eyes off the creature, looking somewhat concerned. 

“Yes. Go rest. It’s been a long few days.” says Sanada, wiping his brow. “Your wife is in the capital, no? Will you visit Yanagi for me when you arrive and tell him that Seiichi has come to collect? He’ll understand.” 

Niou looks oddly concerned. “To collect?”

“And tell my brother that I’ll be paying my respects to Kami-sama and will return soon.” says Sanada, striding on, ignoring Niou’s comment. 

“Kami-sama? He’s kami-sama?” asks Marui, his eyes bugging out.

Sanada just smiles grimly as he turns around to face his destiny and his doom. “Quite the opposite, actually.” he says behind him. “Rest well.” This is firm and final, there is no room for argument. 

They scatter now, looking even more worried and Sanada walks up to the angelic being that he has known for most of his life. The blue-haired not-quite-man looks up and smiles. “Humans are so interesting when they die.” 

“But more interesting when they are alive.” says Sanada, clearly, as he pushes back his dirty hair. “Have you not been entertained by my antics?”

The not-quite-man looks up. “But of course. Why else do you think I’ve been saving you so often? It’s not sentimentality, I assure you.”

“You couldn’t even feel if you tried, of course it’s not sentimentality.” dismisses Sanada, as he rolls out his injured leg and rubs the area where he should have been bleeding from. This always felt so strange, every time the other heals him. 

The being snorts, softly. “Better remember that.”

“How could I forget?” asks Sanada, as he sighs and sinks to the ground in a dejected kneel. Even if he can technically argue that he hadn’t wished for his rescue, he had requested the being’s help in healing. He must fulfill his contract. “Take what you will of me, as payment.”

One favour for another. That was how their contract had worked, for all of this time. He had been bound to the demon since he was six years old. He knows the rules like the back of his hand, if not better. 

The being adjusts his yellow robes, looking quite bored by it all. “I could do a variety of things to you. Humiliate your thoroughly. But it is such a shame to see you so pliant. I think I’ll spare you this time.” 

Sanada grits his teeth. If he abstains now, he’ll just receive something unspeakable the next time he falls into trouble again and requires the demon’s help. “No. I won’t wait until next time.”

Almost instantly, he feels the demon’s long thin fingers against his face. They are scorchingly hot and dig insistently against his jaw and chin, in vice-like grip. Sanada can neither move nor talk as the demon’s bright blue eyes turn steadily red and glare down at Sanada. The heat from the demon’s hands increase until Sanada can feel his skin blistering and bubbling with the heat of it. He is burning and tumbling and the blood wells up and spills down his chin, in red rivulets of agony.

He bites back the cry of pain and blinks away the tears that spring up in his eyes. He will not be weak. He is no weakling. He endures, meeting the demon’s gaze with his own, brown eyes, with shaky breaths being the only sign of the head-splitting agony he faces. 

“Do you really want to try me?” demands the demon. “I have given you a reprieve, don’t challenge me to find something from the depths of Yomi to torture you.”

Sanada just breathes heavily, schooling his face to show nothing, despite the blistering pain moving past his skin to his muscle. The burns are serious, they will leave a mark. But the demon’s grip eventually loosens and the heat fades away, excruciatingly slowly. Without the firm grip of the demon holding him upright. Sanada falls to all fours, the jolt from his fall, shuddering up through his muscles arms. He does not cry, but breathes heavily as the pain sinks through his body. 

There is a light touch to his shoulders, and with a scream, Sanada feels the skin of his jaw melt back together as if the demon had never touched him. The pain of the healing is almost worse than the agony of the injury. He doesn’t look back up, just stares down at the blood-splattered mud. His own blood and the blood of his enemies

“How is our mutual friend, Renji? Doing well?” asks the demon, as he crouches down to pull Sanada back up, his hands cool and soothing. His eyes are blue again, and the beatific smile has returned. 

“No thanks to you.” says Sanada, accepting the grip. The demon has had his fun, Sanada is safe for now. “But he’s doing just fine.”

“How about I pay him a visit?” asks the demon, curiously. 

Sanada’s jaw tightens. “You can. There’s nothing stopping you.” he says, tightly. But they both know that Sanada would hate every second of it and would try to stop the demon from reaching the capital.

“You still love him that much?” asks the demon, tilting it’s head sideways. 

“Love doesn’t fade. Not for me.” says Sanada simply, as he pulls out his sword and starts to wipe it down. “I took this burden so he wouldn’t have to.” 

The demon tosses Sanada a curious look, before smiling again. “Come. I have work to do. There is a village nearby that has an interesting soul. My master wants him. You must collect him for me.”

Sanada sighs but nods. He sheathed his now clean sword and grimaced at his blood-stained clothes. He looks nothing like a member of the Sanada family right now, which is for the best. This is the only person he would follow everywhere, because he knows the consequences for Renji if he does not follow. “Yes, Seiichi.” 

The demon smiles, to the point where he looks like an angel, twirls his yellow robes, and the two disappear in a flash. The only sign of a skirmish are the dead bodies that lie over the once beautiful field.


	12. Contracts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Sumiya's fault! Last chapter was just supposed to be a one off. Instead, you get a nice sadistic followup. More graphic violence.

Yanagi looked up nervously from his books and glanced upwards briefly at the sky outside the paper screen. It was the seventh night since Sanada's men had returned from their mission to kill those who had tried to kill Sanada Sasuke. He'd said seven days, but Sanada wasn't back yet. His old friend wasn't usually wrong about things when it came to Seiichi. Sanada had always been able to deal with Seiichi in a more efficient manner than Yanagi ever had. 

Yanagi turned away from the window and returned to his papers. There were a lot of things to write for Sanada's older brother and he didn't have much time. If Sanada really did not return, tomorrow would be a day of searching, away from the palace. As he started to slowly paint down the imperial words, he heard a sound from outside the door. He pivoted on his foot, to see a tired-looking Sanada on the doorstep.

Sanada's clothes were covered in blood and his hair was matted and worn. He looked bedraggled and his sword was haphazardly attached to his waist, instead of his back, like it usually was. He smiled upon seeing Yanagi's face and Yanagi couldn't help but return it. Still, Sanada's balance looked like it was questionable so Yanagi got up quickly, and sure enough, Sanada wobbled and punted forward, until Yanagi caught him. His arms tightened around Sanada's muscled back and frowned upon feeling the dampness and how cold Sanada's usually steaming skin was. 

"Renji. Renji." muttered Sanada softly, as Yanagi slowly dragged him over to the futon in the corner and propped him half upright. 

"Shh, don't talk." said Yanagi, brushing back the strands of damp, matted hair from Sanada's face and getting back up. He poured some of the tea he'd prepared for Sanada into a cup, not bothering with the ceremony he'd been planning. He returned to Sanada's side and handed him some tea. 

Sanada accepted the tea and took a deep long sip. "This tea is new, isn't it?" he asked, his voice a little less feeble, but more hoarse. His shoulders untensed as he took more sips.

Yanagi nodded as he got up and fetched the omusubi that he'd saved for Sanada. “Jackal got it from his wife, who lives by the tea-growing districts.” He split it up into small bits and gave Sanada one piece. "Take it slow." he said, as Sanada practically inhaled it. He hated this part of Seiichi's whim. Putting Sanada back together was painful for him. 

"He did feed me this time. I think he remembered I was human. I got a meal a day." said Sanada, as he held out his cup for another refill of tea. Yanagi obliged and took a seat opposite Sanada, their knees colliding a little. 

"What happened?" asked Yanagi, with a concerned expression. He needed to know. He just had to know what Seiichi had done now. 

Sanada's expression darkened. "Don't ask." he said, as he stared down at the cup. "I...." He gulped and shuddered a little. "I can't."

Yanagi leaned forward and sighed. Their routine was the same every time this happened. Sanada refused to tell him what had happened to prevent Yanagi's feeling from being hurt and Yanagi didn't let it go and Sanada finally gave in. He wasn't sure why Sanada bothered fighting anymore. "Don't. You're too weak. Just tell me. Don't keep it to yourself." he said, as he leant closer to Sanada.

Sanada looked away. "Please don't touch me, Renji. You can't. Not after what I had to do now." 

Yanagi's face changed. "Genichirou... he said, his voice a little colder. "I cannot let you remain silent. You are a deeply emotional person and the negative effects of keeping silent may permanently damage your mental psyche." 

Sanada looked away and Yanagi placed a hand on Sanada's shoulder. "I'll never judge you for what Seiichi made you do, Genichirou, you know that."

"...there was a boy." started Sanada, finally, his voice pained. "In one of our neighbouring villages. Seiichi said that he had an interesting soul and he wanted to test it." He took a long sip of tea and leaned into Yanagi's touch a little. "I had to steal the boy away from his house, by pretending to be a friend of his and someone who's help him. He was so young, just eight or seven. He believed me."

Sanada exhaled deeply. 'Then Seiichi appeared, with little angelic wings. The little boy looked so happy. Seiichi's always had that dramatic touch." he said, bitterly. "And instead of just killing the boy and taking his soul, Seiichi touched him and his skin turned red and his hair white and his eyes turned a vivid shade of red. He started frothing at the mouth and tried to attack me, in sheer bloodlust." 

Sanada broke off, as a coughing fit wracked through his lungs. Yanagi pulled Sanada a little closer, onto his shoulder, and poured Sanada another cup of tea, while slowly supporting Sanada.

"And then?" prompted Yanagi.

Sanada scoffed, weakly. "I fought him. A child of eight, struck by some awful affliction. I didn't kill him though. I couldn't. Seiichi got angry. He wanted me to kill the boy as he was, because he wanted to see if a half-human, half-demon hybrid could survive in hell."

Sanada looked down. "I told him to wait until the boy was older, more interesting. Now this boy, Kirihara Akaya, has to live until he's older with a demon inside of him, and it's my fault." He shuddered and breathed heavily, his breath shaking with the effort of living. 

Yanagi was quiet, as he pulled Sanada close to him and pressed a kiss to the back of Sanada's neck. "It wasn't your fault. You saved him for now. There's no reason that he can't escape that fate with time. He has to be boring enough for Seiichi to ignore him, yes? We can do that." 

Sanada's eyes were dull, as Yanagi pulled away. "I don't think he will." said Sanada, darkly. "He's kept us under his thrall for so long. And even if he grows bored, Kirihara will just die." 

Yanagi tapped Sanada's cheek, with a frown. "Don't think that way. You're the optimistic one." he said, sternly. "Sleep for now." 

Sanada looked down. Yanagi pressed a kiss to the centre of Sanada's dirty forehead. "Please. It hurts me to see you like this. And sleep will help your body recover. Your cells will grow back faster." 

Sanada nodded and slumped down on the futon fully. Yanagi recovered a small white cloth, and dampened it with water, to wipe Sanada's face and arms from the dirt and blood that covered them, as Sanada's eyes fluttered shut. The water was warm, so it wouldn't disturb his old friend. 

As Sanada's breath slid into more even sounds, Yanagi slowly smoothed out Sanada's matted hair, with a fond smile. "Thank you for taking my burden." he said, finally. "I made this original deal for knowledge about the heavens. I just didn't expect what he would demand in return. I was a child. A stupid child. I didn't understand the consequences of making a contract with a demon, yet you did. And you took this burden for me anyway. He uses me as a ransom, I know it. To force you to do his bidding. You ask for help, and you fulfill the terms of the contract. But you pay so much more for a small favour than you need to, because he threatens me. Threatens to claim my soul. Because I am weaker." Yanagi sighed. "He’s got you so fooled. I can't tell you my plans yet. Not until I confirm my suspicions. But I will." 

Yanagi's smile slid away as he looked down. he got to his feet and pulled out a thin, handwritten volume from his collection of books. He opened to a specific page and started slowly reading the ancient words, that even the bravest samurai in Sanada’s troop would be afraid to speak. He slowly took a pinch of damp salt from the table and scattered it around him in a loose salt circle. "Appear to me, ancient demon. I name you Seiichi Yukimura, High Lord over the Rings of Yomi." 

Yanagi cleared his throat and rolled his eyes at the slowly increasing plumes of smoke that rolled in through the door as he finished his summons. Sanada was always telling him about Seiichi's penchant for dramatics, but he hadn't quite realized the extent of it. "I don't believe that's quite necessary, Seiichi. I'm well acquainted with you and your powers. We're wasting time here." 

The demon slowly materialized in front of him, dressed in a beautifully flowing set of white robes. With his ethereal beauty and angelic smile, Yanagi could have very well believed that he was an angelic being. but the smile slowly curved into a smirk as the being spread his arms and the edges of the robes slowly tinged into a black. "My dear Renji." he chimed, with a voice that wasn't human. The voice that haunted Yanagi's nightmares for years. 

"I would say that it's a pleasure, but considering we're here because Sanada's on the verge of death through emotional trauma, that would be an outright lie." said Yanagi coolly. "Your deal is quintessentially unfair." 

Seiichi's eyes widened and they turned a little red. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice quiet and dangerous. The wind around Yanagi started to pick up and his papers fluttered around the room as Seiichi's robes fluttered under the force of the wind. 

"You can't hurt me when I'm protected by salt." said Yanagi, coolly. "And your display of power is pathetic in that regard."

"But I can hurt him." said Seiichi, as his gaze went to the slumped body in the corner. "And wouldn't that be a travesty?"

Yanagi's eyes flickered to Sanada and shook his head. "I just bathed him in water from the temple. You'd be hard-pressed to get near him, let alone touch him, high lord or not." he said, his voice shaking a little, as he brought up the book and uttered four more words. "Kirihara cannot be corrupted."

Seiichi just smiled, beatifically. "So you think. In both accounts." Seiichi pressed a finger to his lips and drifted slowly over to Sanada and poked Sanada's cheek, much to Yanagi's horror. "Boop." he said, with a languid smirk. There was a small scorch mark where Yukimura's finger had impacted and Sanada turned restlessly in his sleep. 

"Kirihara cannot be corrupted." repeated Yanagi, tearing his eyes away Sanada, with great difficulty. Seiichi wanted a reaction and Yanagi was not going to give him one. "I recognize the name from the research books you gave me. He's supposed to be under kami-sama's protection." 

Seiichi smiled mysteriously. "Would it surprise you terribly if I said that there is no longer a kami to protect him?" 

"Rather." said Yanagi. "Mostly, because I don't believe a word of it." He crossed his arms and tucked his trembling hands under the sleeves of his kimono to hide them from Seiichi's sight. "If there was no kami-sama, the world would be in rather a lot more chaos than it currently is."

"You'd be surprised. Few of the higher-up demons are involved with humans." said Seiichi, as he floated close to Yanagi, his delicate face and the smell of the most heavenly flowers overwhelming Yanagi's senses. "But think about it. How else would I be able to touch someone protected by kami, unless that kami is defeated?"

Yanagi met the blue-eyed gaze coolly and held his breath. His biggest assumption now. "Because you used Sanada and lied to us. You never switched your contract to Sanada. My soul is still yours when I die, but Sanada's is not. Since Sanada's soul has not been claimed by any one otherwordly power, he can do anything to anyone he likes until he dies and receives judgement." 

Seiichi's eyebrows rose and his smile became a little more languid. "Clever boy." he crooned, his red lips curling into a perfect o. "Didn't your mother ever tell you to never believe a demon's word when they don't swear it?"

Yanagi's eyebrows rose. "I think you know the answer to that. It is hard for a dead person to tell her son anything."

Seiichi leant back a little with a mock-pitiful expression on his face. "So, now that you know this...what are you going to dear, my dear, wonderful, clever Renji?" he asked, his voice practically dripping with honey. 

Yanagi shrugged, putting the most innocent expression he could muster on his face. "Not much. I'm just going to redraw the terms and conditions of our contract to free both Sanada and I under the terms that you have taken more than you have given."

Seiichi grinned and his teeth sharpened to resemble the fangs of a piranha. He looked the part of a demon as his robes darkened a little more, as if the evil was being absorbed by his clothes and seeping up the cloth. "And what, dear Renji, makes you think I'm going to agree to the termination of our contract?"

Yanagi shrugged. "Oh, I don't know, getting Sanada to summon the archangel Shiraishi and putting Kirihara under his power so your hybrid experiment cannot happen?" He waved the small book with the words he'd need to do just that. He could summon Shiraishi too, but it wasn’t as powerful and his plea would not be heard as it would if Sanada appealed. Sanada’s soul still was up for grabs so Shiraishi was more likely to listen. 

Seiichi's eyes flashed bright red and he lunged for the book. Yanagi just smirked as Seiichi's hand was repelled by the salt and his robes turned a bright, blinding red. "Salt mixed with temple water. Even if temple water isn't enough by itself, it and salt are quite potent, don't you think?" asked Yanagi, with a smug smile. 

"Sanada can't do anything for you if I kill him." said Seiichi, coolly, as he lifted Sanada up from the bed, leaving scorch marks over Sanada's face and skin.

"You still need him to do your bidding." said Yanagi, nervously, as he licked his lips. He hadn't counted on Seiichi being able to touch Sanada. The temple water had supposed to be effective by itself. 

"Then, I'll just rip out his tongue." said Seiichi, with a languid smirk, as he manipulated Sanada's jaw with his hands, leaving burn marks everywhere. "It would reduce his bleating. He's quite irritating when he complains." He pulled a sympathetic look. "But, of course, I can leave him just fine, if you throw that book out here. Who needs to get that angel involved, hmm? He does so ruin my fun when he's on duty."

Yanagi could see Sanada waking up under the pain of the burns. If he'd told Sanada about this earlier...if he'd trusted himself, this would be easier....

He could give in to Seiichi’s blackmail. He could save Sanada and let Kirihara suffer under Seiichi's whims. But he'd seen Sanada's eyes when he'd spoke about the younger boy. Neither of them would be able to live with that decision. So this required some acting. 

He made his face waver and he clutched the book between his hands, open on the page. There were two summons for the Angel Shiraishi in here. One that was immediate and one that wasn’t. Seiichi would be expecting the immediate one, so the immediate one was the one the demon would get. He clutched the book close to himself and started to stall for time. 

“Why do you want Kirihara, anyway? Why bother to touch him and try to kill him?” asked Yanagi, curiously, as Sanada’s black eyes opened and he jerked under Seiichi’s grip. “What’s even the point?”

Seiichi shrugged, as he viciously tugged Sanada to be quiet. “Because I can. Because he’s strong. Because God wouldn’t expect his weapon to turn on him. Because it’s fun. Why else would you do anything?” he asked, with a vicious grin. 

Yanagi nodded. “You first planned on just killing him. Then you took Sanada’s idea to leave him alive as a contaminated weapon...?” he asked, as he slowly started ripping the page with the longer incantation out, under the cover of his sleeves. Sanada’s face looked horrified as he heard Yanagi’s words. 

Seiichi smirked. “Even kami isn’t infallible. And it was a good idea, from such a uncreative source.” he said, as he pinched Sanada’s cheek, despite the glare that Sanada sent in Seiichi’s way. There was a hiss and the acrid smell and sound of flesh melting wafted in Yanagi’s way. He gagged a little and his hands became a little shakier. 

“So what will kami-sama do once he realizes that Kirihara is no longer weapon material?” asked Yanagi.

Seiichi’s eyes narrowed. “You’re rather curious, aren’t you? Time’s ticking. you know, I’m not a patient person. Hand the book over or I rip out his tongue.” 

“I need time to make this decision. It’s not an easy decision.” said Yanagi, firmly, as he sped up in his ripping. Damnit, he wasn’t as subtle as he’d hoped. “I want to know what will happen to Kirihara. He’s just a boy.”

“He dies, likely. Kami doesn’t need a useless weapon.” said Seiichi, gripping Sanada’s hair and pulling back his neck, to poke fingers at Sanada’s neck, which coaxed gasps from Sanada’s throat.

“Fine!” he yelled, as if he was pained by Sanada’s cries. “Take it and be damned! We’ll stay yours. No angels or kami-sama. Just don’t kill him.” He scrunched up the small bit of paper with the long incantation in his sleeve and threw the book at Seiichi. Seiichi caught the book easily and it instantly went up in flames, until there were nothing but a small smattering of black ashes on the paper floor.

Yanagi winced a little at 20 years of research going up in flame, but staggered forward to drag Sanada into the salt circle and hold him close. “Genichirou. I need to you started reading the paper I give you.” he whispered to Sanada, inbetween soothing remarks and almost tearful touches to Sanada’s wounds. Nothing that would arouse suspicion in Seiichi.

Seiichi just snorted. “How pathetic human love is.” he said, as he breathed out. His robes turned back to the brilliant white and his eyes returned to the angelic baby blue. His teeth straightened and he looked the image of something beautiful and not fright-inducing. “I’ll be seeing you next time you screw up, Sanada.” he said, with a cool smirk.

“Now.” said Yanagi, as he leant back and let out something of a smile. Sanada started reading, his words a little congested, but easily recognisable as the ancient tongue. Seiichi’s mouth dropped open before he shook his head with a rueful smile. “You got me, _dear_ Renji.” 

As Sanada finished reading the long incantation, another figure all in white and green appeared. He had despondent blond hair, that was topped by a laurel wreath and there were bandages over one arm, and a harp clutched under the other. He looked about as beautiful as Seiichi, but in a different way. More peaceful, more laidback. 

“Seiichi!” he exclaimed. “But I got a human summoning...” 

“Kuranosuke.” said Seiichi, with a tight smile. “What a pleasure. I didn’t summon you.” 

“No, I did.” said Sanada, with a shaky voice. 

Kuranosuke turned around and pursed his lips upon seeing the injured state of Sanada and Yanagi clutching him up. “More of your fun, Seiichi?” he asked, as he drifted forward and healed Sanada’s injuries by placing his bandaged hand over Sanada’s face. “You demons. I forget sometimes, that your fun is something despicable.” he said, as he tilted Sanada’s chin upwards. “What did you want?”

“Freedom.” said Yanagi. “There’s a boy called Kirihara Akaya. He’s been corrupted by a demon spirit in him. We wanted to free him.” The rest, they could do with Seiichi alone. 

Kuranosuke blinked before sighing and tossing a look towards Seiichi. “Akaya’s marked. You know that, Seiichi.”

“Marks mean nothing, in the end, if you do nothing with them.” said Seiichi, with a smirk. “I wish you luck trying to undo that little curse, _Kura~_ ” 

Kuranosuke gave another long suffering sigh and twirled around with a fast clean sweep, bringing his robes around the salt circle. Yanagi tightened his arms around Sanada, as the environment around them rapidly changed from the safety of his room in the Sanada palace, to an old, small hut. There was a small, restlessly sleeping boy there with flyaway black curls and an old grandmother. She stood up in her chair and gaped at the three of them, wordlessly. 

Not five seconds later, Seiichi snapped to stand next to Kuranosuke, and the old woman sat back in her chair, looking completely dumbfounded. “Oh Akaya...” muttered Kuranosuke, as his bandaged hand went down to the boy’s pale and tightened visage. “You did a number of him, Seiichi. I can’t easily fix him.”

Seiichi rolled his eyes. “Hence the word corruption. It’s not supposed to be easy to reverse.” he snapped, as his robes started turning a little darker, more greyscale tone instead of the blinding white of Kuranosuke’s robes. 

Kuranosuke sighed. “Must you be like this?” He placed his hands on Akaya’s face and shut his eyes. Yanagi’s grip tightened around Sanada and he breathed, uneasily. For now, Seiichi’s attention was completely centred on Kuranosuke, but very soon, one of them was going to remember that Yanagi and Sanada were no longer inside the circle of salt and Yanagi was internally begging that Kuranosuke was the more conscientious one. 

Sanada’s arms tightened around Yanagi as he sat up fully. “If he attacks us, I’ll protect you.” said Sanada, harshly, under his breath. “What the hell is going on, Renji?”

“It’s a long story that I _really_ don’t have time for now. Once we win, I’ll tell you everything. But by the time that unfolds, I think you’ll understand.” explained Yanagi, not removing his eyes from Kuranosuke and the slowly growing cloud of black smoke that was escaping the young child, who was screaming from the pain of it all. 

But to his horror, Seiichi turned around, looking bored, and his face split into a perfectly beatific smile upon seeing the two of them on the floor. “Salt.” was his only word as he darted forward and tightened his hands around Yanagi’s neck. 

Sanada stood up immediately and tried to pound on Seiichi and attack him. Yanagi could see it through his slowly blackening vision. He struggled in Seiichi’s grasp, as his breaths became more and more shallow. “Now then.” crooned Seiichi into his ear. “I have a place specially reserved for you in the Rings of Yomi. Aren’t you excited, Renji?” He manipulated Yanagi’s head to nod. “Oh, yes, you are~ So very obedient in death.”

There was a burning iron vice around his middle and his eyesight was swimming. The black spots were becoming more and frequent and he could feel the gargling of his poor abused lungs shaking his entire frame. Still, he spared a breath to say, “You can’t claim Sanada.”

Sanada was furiously trying to wrestle Seiichi to the ground, to the delighted laughs of Seiichi. “You’re very cute when you try that, you poor deluded fool.” exclaimed Seiichi, inbetween peals of laughter. “I’m an immortal demon. I can’t die, especially not at the hands of a mortal.”

“But another god?” asked Kuranosuke and Yanagi weakly turned in Seiichi’s constricting grip, his blurring vision seeing a fierce grimace of blond hair and angelic wings. His vision blurred and he was weakly aware of Seiichi mouthing, “So be it, Kura.”

Yanagi suddenly felt the relief of having blessed oxygen and the plunging sensation of a sudden fall. His stomach pooled under him and Yanagi resigned himself to a lot of bruises and perhaps a broken bone. Instead, he felt Sanada’s arms brace his weight and he clung to Sanada, as he placed his feet back on the ground and massaged his throat. 

There was a huge gust of wind and Yanagi felt Sanada’s arms clutch around him. He held onto Sanada and shut his eyes against the dreadful gust. He could hear the clash of weapons and teeth and taste the fury of otherworldly beings on his breath and through the air. 

And suddenly, as if it had never been there, the wind died down and there was peace. Yanagi cracked upon an eye. The grandmother stood glued to her chair, looking utterly flummoxed. And the small, curly-haired boy was wide away and cheerfully making his way to his feet. He ran up to Yanagi, who pulled away from Sanada and tugged on Yanagi’s kimono, with his fat fingers.

“Angel man asked me ter tell you that you and other man are free from the contract if you help me live.” he said, with a wide, gap-toothed smile. “He said that you have sweets!”

Free from the contract? It seemed too good to be true. Was Kuranosuke lying? He was angel though. An archangel, at that. Yanagi had to trust him and trust his words. 

Yanagi chuckled and knelt down to the boy’s height, pretending that he hadn’t been worrying. “That’s right. I have sweets back at the palace. But you’ll have to come back with Sanada-dono and I, and leave your grandmother. Is that okay?” 

The little boy nodded eagerly and Yanagi shot a small look towards to the old lady. She nodded faintly. “Take him, he’s more trouble than he’s worth.” she croaked, as she clutched her yukata. 

Yanagi held out his arms for the little boy to clamber up into and Kirihara Akaya eagerly clambered into them. He tried to still the shaking of his arms, so that the child wouldn’t be inconvenienced, before frowning. The angel and demon hadn’t seen fit to take them back to the palace. 

“It looks like we have a bit of a walk ahead of us, Genichirou.” said Yanagi, with a displeased frown.

“A lot. It’s three day’s walk from the palace.” said Sanada, weakly, as they walked out of the small, dingy hut. “And that’s with enough strength to push yourself the whole way.” 

Yanagi’s laugh was a little strained. “Wonderful. Your brother is going to be very irritated tomorrow. I didn’t finish his paperwork.” 

They met each other’s gaze, and laughed at each other as they started trekking across the dark countryside. The child looked mightily confused, and indeed, it wasn’t all that funny, but they were free. They were free from Seiichi’s claims. And all they had to do was make sure that Kirihara Akaya would live. And that was enough to set both of their hearts at ease.


	13. Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once, this is actually drabble length.

The storm outside the house was raging. The rain hadn’t quite started yet, but the howling of the wind against the houses and through the trees made for quite the cacophony. The trees shook under the force of the winds and the clouds were almost hurtled from side to side. The plants were battered by the onslaught and even the houses had trouble staying still. 

If Seiichi listened closely, as he stood close to the window, he could hear the individual voices of the wind screaming and lamenting. Wind sprites had always been prone to melodramatics. 

Seiichi laid his palm flat against the cool glass of the window and moved closer, until his nose was almost touching the cool, transparency of the glass. His eyes fluttered shut as he pealed his ears open to listen. Was that Syuusuke’s voice there, close by? And Kojirou, flitting around the trees. Two familiar voices.

The language of the wind sprites was different to humans and when screamed on the wind, was almost indistinct, but Seiichi caught snippets of words like ‘searching’ and ‘lost’. They were looking for something. Someone. 

Seiichi looked down at the hand on the window, that was slowly turning colder. It was pale and delicate, with small lines where you could see the veins stick out of the back of his hand and the bones in his wrist and arm. Veins had always been a little fascinating to him, mostly because as a wind sprite, you never needed veins. 

Blood and mortality were so very human. He still found himself fascinated. 

There was a small sound behind him and Seiichi turned around to see a concerned looking Genichirou. There was something of a hesitation and anxiety to his whole demeanour, something that wasn’t normal for the tall, confident man. Genichirou’s eyes were fixed completely on Seiichi and he spoke up, a little hesitantly. “It’s cold outside. The wind’s very strong.”

Seiichi felt a lazy smile come to his face. He knew what Genichirou was thinking now. That Seiichi wanted to climb out of the window, to rejoin that world. And Seiichi couldn’t deny that he sometimes wondered what it would have been like if three years ago, he’d not crossed along that path that had led him to Sanada Genichirou. The path that had taken him away from excitement and adventure and the freedom to wander anywhere he wanted. 

But neither could Seiichi deny the safety, the warmth and the tender desire that Genichirou held for him and the emotions he felt. Seiichi lifted his hand away from the window and stepped closer to Genichirou, until his fingers caressed the side of the taller man’s jaw. 

Seiichi pressed a kiss to the end of Genichirou’s nose, and smiled. “Do not begrudge me a wistfulness for my home. I am here, am I not? I will not leave your side. You need not have any fear over that.” 

Genichirou’s arms wrapped around his waist almost automatically, but his eyes remained unsure. “You loved it.” he said, simply. 

“Of course I did.” said Seiichi, dismissively. “But I will be here until the day you die, at your side. Do not doubt me.” 

Genichirou frowned. “And then? After I die?”

Seiichi shrugged, as he pulled Genichirou closer and away from the window. “This body will instantly die. And I will return to my home again. I am immortal. I will return to the wind where I came from and travel the world again. Such is the fate of a wind sprite.” 

Genichirou’s eyes were still filled with uncertainty so Seiichi kissed him, long and slow. “You have me, now. Why worry about my future?” he asked, sweetly as he broke away from Genichirou’s grasp. “Come catch me if you’re so scared of me leaving.” he teased, as he pattered away through the traditional house. 

The wind continued to howl, but Seiichi dismissed the cries of his compatriots as mere whisperings. For now, he was bound and was going to enjoy every second of it. And the future would come and he would be released again to the wind and he would repeat the cycle. He fall for another human, be bound entirely to that person until their death and he would return. It was an everlasting cycle. It had happened before and it would happen again. All he could do was enjoy it.


	14. Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marui sees the regulars like sweets.

To him, Jackal's summed up by coffee-cake. Not just because Jackal's dark, but because Jackal's sweet and determined. On days when Marui feels particularly ill from eating too much or annoyed from babysitting his brothers or exhausted from running too many laps, Jackal's always there with something kind to say to him. There will be small encouragements trough practise, or small treats during the day and kind comments. After school, Jackal will always be willing to talk to him and buy him food and spoil Marui a little. Jackal lets Marui indulge in being a child for a little while, and it is because of this that the indulgence and richness of coffee-cake is Jackal's essence.

Jackal's also patient. He takes time to bloom and flourish, something that Marui remembers from elementary school. When he'd first shouted at the idiots who had been judging Jackal for being a halfu, Jackal had been painfully shy. But over two or three months, he became the outgoing and funny person that Marui cherishes as a best friend. Just like coffee-cake, whose essence only becomes stronger as you savour it for longer, so is Jackal. 

Of course, coffee-cake bites afterwards and that's a reminder that Jackal isn't a pushover. Jackal's got a smart mouth on him, that he frequently uses when other team members saddle their problems on him and he _is_ Rikkai. He's just as cruel as all of them when it comes down to it, just more willing to use kindness before force. Marui appreciates that, really. 

~x~

Niou could be nothing else than lemon sorbet. Bitterly sweet and ice-cold, it is Marui's favourite sweet dish to hate. Just like Niou's initial appearance, the bitter taste sends a tingle of revulsion down his spine when he first takes a spoonful and the cold of the dish gives Marui brainfreeze, just like Niou's teasing and scathing remarks that cut just a little too close to home. Marui can recall several days where he's felt so insecure and angry from Niou's little comments about Marui's weight and Marui's overcompensation for his lack of academic intelligence in his genius tennis. Marui sometimes hates Niou and Niou's ability to target all of Marui's weaknesses and insecurities with one pinch of Marui's thighs

Still, there is a hint of sweetness there, fleeting and soft, like the days where Niou returns money that he's stolen, with a slightly ashamed _Puri_ , or when he conspires with Marui to sneak in cake to Yukimura in hospital, or when Niou helps him with Math homework. The moments are small like the tiny hint of sugar that culminates in the middle, before being replaced by the biting chill. 

But they're enough to call sorbet a dessert. 

~x~

If Niou is lemon sorbet, Yagyuu is a homemade meringue. A meringue is one of Marui's favourite dishes, though he will always advocate for cookies. Crisp and hard on the exterior, but soft and chewy on the inside, pretty much sums up Yaguu to Marui. Yagyuu's always been one to promote a chilly exterior, cold and crisp and difficult to get through. Yagyuu is the perfect gentleman on the outside, cold and unaffected.

But break into the inside, and there is chewy, soft goodness, which Marui loves seeing. Getting to see Yagyuu's dorky side is one of Marui's honest-to-god joys of the day (not because Yagyuu had put him in detentions sometimes, of course not). Yagyuu is someone who is genuinely warm and thoughtful, when he isn't acting, which makes Yagyuu one of Marui's favourite people, even if the detentions are a small downside. But of course, there was the biggest factor of the sweet meringue to take into mind, and that was the vinegar. 

Yagyuu isn't able to become Niou so easily without some sharpness. Right in the middle of the meringue's vanilla and coconut flavour, there is a slight tang, a slight blip in the experience, that keeps life interesting. That's Yagyuu's cruel part, the part that becomes Niou's cruel comments and the part that smirks when people fall over on the stairs. That's the part that scares Marui a little, but makes Yagyuu interesting and ultimately, Rikkai. 

~x~

Kirihara's difficult to describe in one dessert, Marui finds. Their little demon ace shows up in all sorts of dishes, like that mint gelato ice-cream that he'd tried at Akutagawa's ice-cream place, or the kiwi panna cotta that he'd tried in that upscale bakery in Tokyo. But when Marui thinks really hard for one dish that encapsulates everything that Kirihara Akaya is, he can only think of spicy caramel popcorn, that he's eaten every year without fail, during the Tanabata festival. 

It's sweet at first, like Kirihara for the most part. Kirihara's extremely adorable, even when smashing pots and stepping on people's feet and failing English. There is no doubt that he means well, but he is crunchy and snappy, like popcorn, even when he isn't in devil mode. Kirihara's just got too many rough edges and brittle edges of temper and failure to make him anything but popcorn. Marui remembers the 

And of course, the inevitable spice and rage of Kirihara's devil mode surfaces in the chili that almost burns Kirihara's tongue. Marui's been on the receiving end of the Devil mode a few times, when his tsunawatari is too strong and it's one of the scariest things that Marui's been through, trying to calm down one of his closer friends. A bit like the first time that Marui tried the spicy popcorn and almost had a heart-attack after the sweet caramel melted into chili. His mother had laughed so much, and her laugh sounded so much like Kirihara's, when he was just reaching into the depths of madness. 

~x~

To speak of one of the three demons is to speak of all three of them. They share so much in common but they have their own distinct identities. To Marui, they are chocolate, with all of its nuances.

Yanagi had always seemed like white chocolate to Marui. Seemingly bland at first, with little flavour that was 'not really chocolate', before exploding into rich vanilla and an overpowering taste and scent. A lot of tennis opponents liked to say, that thanks to Yanagi's defeat at the hands of Inui, he didn't count as a real member of the sannin bakemono. But Marui wanted them to play Yanagi on top form, all the chill and grace and speed that make him so deadly and vicious. His mental game is overpowering and undermining, just like how white chocolate always steals the show when included in other desserts. Yanagi is like that in normal life too; he steals the show with snarky, accurate comments and little smirks and a cool composed exterior, that never strays once into the mean territory. Yanagi respects limits and that is what Marui admires the most about him. 

Yukimura is milk chocolate to Marui. He is kind and sweet and one of the brightest people that Marui's ever known. He's pretty much everywhere throughout the school, since he specializes in so many of Rikkai's arts, and everyone uses Yukimura as a base for something, just like milk chocolate in most desserts. He is essential to the way the school functions, and when Yukimura left for the hospital, everybody felt his absence keenly. And of course, milk chocolate is difficult to get tired of, as Yukimura is. Of course, since milk chocolate is pretty much the king of desserts, all other desserts pale in comparison and it has an ability to steal the thunder from any other dessert. If that isn't a description of his captain, Marui wasn't a sweet connaisseur. 

It is without a doubt that Marui dubs Sanada as dark chocolate. Sweet and bitter all at once, with a mixture of flavours, that mixed into each other, leaving neither a sweet nor a bitter aftertaste. For all of Sanada's bluster, he's perhaps one of the most compassionate of their teammates and his dorkiness shines through everything that isn't tennis-related. He's always the most mindful of birthdays, even if he grants nobody any freedom from tennis. His gifts are always the best, well-thought out and very clearly expensive. He's always quiet in lessons and generally, when their team lunches are around, always willing, if a little reluctantly, to buy anyone lunch if they forget theirs. But, of course, it is impossible to forget the iron first of justice and the violence that Sanada weaves into their daily lives. For all of his quirks, he is still iron fisted and one of the most cruel people that Marui has ever met. He is stern and unyielding, just like bitterness of dark chocolate that washes over everything, but he is kind as well. 

~x~ 

Of course, with all of his analysis, Marui is still unable to choose a dessert for himself. Or write analytical essays for literature, where it actually matters.


	15. Remnants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not fall in love with people like me.  
> I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.  
> I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people  
> -Caitlyn Siehl

There are goosebumps on Sanada's skin as he finishes the last few tweaks to his book. It's a full moon and the air is clear and brisk, with the slight, faint smell of oranges, drifting from somewhere in the valley. It's further away from the city than Sanada's ever really been in a long time, but it reminds him of lazy summer nights spent at Renji's house with just he and Yukimura. 

He isn't quite sure why. It's the middle of winter and Sanada's not wearing more than a thin-tank-top and some jeans. He's on the other side of the country from Renji's aunt's house, but it has the feel of Renji anyway. The whole place does. 

He places the pen down and growls in frustration as he stares down at the paper. He sees reminders of Renji everywhere. In the neat calligraphy of his novel, he can only think of those calligraphy lessons they'd done together after school, with Renji's intent not-really-open eyes taking in every detail of Sanada's lessons. The times that Sanada had clasped his hand over Renji's to guide his strokes and pretending that they weren't crazily attracted to each other. 

In his empty cupboards, he can only see piles of green tea and how much Yukimura used to tease Renji for having all of those packets upon packets of tea stacked there. The early mornings where Renji and he used to just sit in comfortable silence in their apartment, just breathing and feeling the closeness of the other. 

In his works, he remembers Renji's encouragement to push away from the traditional careers of his family. He remembers reading the rough drafts that they did together at one in the morning, despite Renji having a lab the next day. He sees Renji's traits in each of his characters. He sees Renji in the small neat corrections at the sides of Sanada's drafts. He sees Renji everywhere. 

Perhaps the building isn't the problem. 

Sanada has to hold back from breaking his pen. Instead, he thumps back against the headboard of the chair, with an angry sob. Yukimura had told him to take this trip out to the middle of nowhere to forget Renji. To take a break from all of the memories. But Sanada can't escape him. 

He can't do this. He stands up, leaving his manuscript messily over the table and the ink uncapped. Come morning, the ink will be dry and his manuscript will be out of page order, scattered around the room by the cold breeze, but Sanada doesn't care. If only his memories of Renji would sweep away as quickly as his work can. 

Instead, Sanada glances out the windowsill. The night is cold. His teeth are chattering now. Even with his exposure to morning temperatures in his dojo, he usually wore a thick yukata. He is wearing almost nothing now. If Renji were here, there would be a silent presence by his side, with a jacket, as a gentle reminder that Sanada was endangering his health. There would be stats and facts about why sleep was optimal for writing and brain cell recovery. But most of all, there would be a warm presence against his side, where Renji would fit perfectly and they would stand together, until dawn if necessary. 

Sanada can't do this. He hasn't got the strength in him. He can't keep going without his silent backbone. Why had Renji just left him on this Earth, without warning? Had he been unable to predict it? Had that been Sanada's fault, for encouraging him to stop using his statistics as a crutch? The survivor's guilt was always the strongest. 

There is a sting in Sanada's eyes and he attributes it to the harsh, arctic winds. He grips the windowsill so tightly that it starts to splinter a little, and that eventually leads to him thinking about the time that he'd punched a wall in frustration about his script being rejected from the seventh editor, and got wood splinters stuck on his hand. Renji had carefully plucked out every splinter, quietly reprimanding him for being an idiot and had kissed him better later. 

Renji is everywhere. Sanada can't escape the ghost. He can still see the fine, brown hair. He can still smell the matcha and old books and the slightly starched feeling. He can still feel the rough skin against his and the whispered promises they'd made, late at night. 

Why does this hurt so much? Why does it feel like he is missing something vital to his existence? His heart is still beating fast, as if a reminder that Sanada is still alive, but it certainly doesn't feel like it. He feels both in pain and numb. He feels the most violent mix of all the contradictions and Sanada just wants to slice some straw dolls until dawn, until he could collapse from exhaustion. 

But he can't. He is miles away from his dojo, filled with memories of a best friend and lover. Sanada swallows a little. The manuscript isn't going to get itself done, today. He slams the window shut, with a furious sob, and throws himself down into the bed, for four hours of fitful sleep.


	16. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yanagi has been avoiding Akaya even since he came back from the Loser's Mountain. Set during U-17.

Yanagi has been avoiding Akaya ever since he came back from the Loser's Mountain. It has been three days of evading all of Akaya's attempts to converse beyond the tennis games. It has been three days that Yanagi has been running. 

Yanagi has always run from his problems. Seiichi and Genichirou have both quietly judged him about it and Seiichi has even spoken up about it, one quiet day in the hospital that Yanagi doesn't like to think about. He had run from saying goodbye to Sadaharu, he had run from the idea that Seiichi could have died, and now, he has run from the responsibility of Akaya. 

The three of them haven't been good senpai to Akaya. Too obsessed with victory, not enough with the welfare of their kouhai. Things had been better before Seiichi was ill, but even then, they had always taken the easy route, the fastest route to making Akaya a player worthy of Rikkai's team. They had encouraged Demon Eyes, even when Yanagi had seen the data that showed the high pressure and likelihood that Akaya would have problems continuing for the rest of his life. They had dismissed it for victory, letting a child's naive pledge of eternal alliegiance override the hard facts that one day he would grow up and tennis would not be his priority.

Yanagi is to blame. He knows this. He had ignored the data when he could have changed something, back when it had still been possible to change. After Seiichi's admission to hospital, it had been a downhill struggle. All of them had been wrecks and it had been their motto to say "anything to win". And Akaya's violence had only been encouraged, in an endless positive feedback loop of acceptance of violence and the results that violence brought and Sanada's approval of these results. 

When Seiichi had come back, Yanagi had hoped for things to improve, but they hadn't. It was to be expected, they had lost at Kantou and Seiichi disliked loss as much as Genichirou. And so, Demon-Eyes become Devil Mode and Akaya became a creature that Yanagi could barely recognize from the enthusiastic child he tutored. All for a victory that didn't materialize.

And U-17 had been Yanagi's turn, yet he had forfeited. He has failed Akaya, because he's not stopped Seiichi and Genichirou before. He will continue to push Akaya down the wrong path, he knows it. The senpai that Akaya had needed was kinder but still had a firm hand. It was why Yanagi had asked Shiraishi to help Akaya, especially after seeing the success that Shiraishi had made of Tooyama. 

And that had been it and Yanagi has let his own personal feelings of Akaya go. He thinks Akaya is charming to be around and someone who allows Yanagi to learn more about what it is to really be carefree. But friendship is a two-way street and Yanagi has given Akaya nothing but pain and violence. 

It is why he is hiding in the library now, on their only free day. The vast majority of people are using the training facilities. Sadaharu has gone for a jog with Kaidoh, Mizuki is busy spying on some others and the typical bookworms are too busy playing. The library is empty and the best place for Yanagi to hide. 

Or so he'd thought. Akaya is at his side almost an hour after Yanagi has arrived at the library. Yanagi is surprised, and tries to not let it show, but his eyes flicker open momentarily, before he schools his face again. "Akaya, you should be training." he says, with a clipped tone. 

Akaya scowls at Yanagi, crossing his arms over his chest and bouncing onto one hip. "Well, you aren't either, senpai." he declares, petulantly. 

With a shake of a head, Yanagi dismisses it. "I've already finished my training for today. You on the other hand, haven't even started, since you only woke up twenty minutes ago. You should go and train with Seiichi."

"I don't care about buchou for now. I care about you." says Akaya, his scowl turning into a pitiful pout, as he grabs Yanagi's sleeve. "You've been running away again, senpai. I just wanted to talk to you. Ask you stuff. I missed you."

Those words hurt, more than he can really express. Yanagi has missed Akaya too; the mountain has been lonely, even with Genichirou and Sadaharu there. There has been little positive life on the mountain, and Tooyama is lively, but nowhere near as endearing as Akaya and Yanagi is nowhere near as close with Tooyama as he is with Akaya. 

"You shouldn't think about me." says Yanagi, dully. "You should think about gaining more contacts in the tennis world, especially in your age group. Next year is your year and you will need others to help and to fight against."

Akaya gives him a look of pure confusion. "I did that already. I room with all the captains of next year. I know that you got Shiraishi-san to help me with my tennis. And I liked him, senpai, really. He's super nice. But he's not my friend like you, senpai. We should go and grab an ice-cream now. Or go jogging."

Yanagi's hands pauses above a book he was about to select and he turns to face Akaya. "Did you know that if you had continued to use Devil Mode, the chances of you having numerous heart attacks by thirty would have been 93.4%?" he whispers, softly. 

Akaya's face drops. He looks shocked and glances down at his hands and his heart. "...and now I don't?"

"You'll reach that percentage by age fifty." says Yanagi, quietly. "The damage is done forever."

Akaya is quiet for sometime and Yanagi hopes that the other boy will walk away. Instead, Akaya continues to follow him. "Is that why you don't want to be friends with me? Because you're afraid of getting attached and losing me at fifty? It's a long way away, senpai." 

It's a good guess and a guess that most people that aren't Yanagi wouldn't have attributed to him. But Akaya's a smart boy when he tries to be. When he puts in the effort. "Not really." states Yanagi, shortly. 

Akaya lets out an annoyed sigh and he pulls faces as he hums and hahs over the answer. Usually, Yanagi gives him hints to get to the answer by himself, but the answer in this case is too painful. "Then you blame yourself? For not telling me about this earlier?" Akaya says, pointing his finger straight at Yanagi's face, with the assurance that he's right. 

Despite himself, Yanagi is feeling more amused already. "Better." he responds and attempts to hide the fond smile that always shows up around an Akaya that isn't playing tennis like a demon. 

"...then you blame yourself for me." says Akaya, finally, his voice soft and low. "You blame yourself for the fact that I have Devil Mode at all."

Yanagi doesn't deny it, which is an answer in itself. Akaya scowls and grabs the front of Yanagi's jacket, despite Yanagi being significantly taller than the other. "You're so stupid, senpai!" he yells, angrily. "You think I didn't know what I was turning into, Yanagi-senpai? You think I'm blind to the fact, that the fucking demon whispering that I should let everyone bleed, is a bad thing?"

He scoffs and lets go of Yanagi's jacket, with a frustrated look on his face. "I thought you were different, you know, senpai. You always treated me like I was smart, just lacking the bits of the equation that I needed to solve the whole thing. And you can't even give me enough credit to figure out that I was a bit of a douche?"

The black-haired boy runs a hand through his hair and Yanagi cannot say a word, as he just stares at Akaya, feeling a little shell-shocked. "It's not your fucking fault, senpai. I wouldn't have listened to anyone telling me anything good back when Nationals and stuff was happening. And you know what happened when Sanada-fukubuchou used violence on violence. It just became worse."

He pauses and shrugs. "Yeah, I get what you mean about other people and alliances and all that shit for tennis. But compliments and kind behaviour would've meant so much more from you, senpai."

And that hurts even more, because Yanagi wonders about how many chances he's missed to compliment Akaya on doing things well. He, like all of Rikkai, have only ever used acceptable or good. Never shining praise, because even Seiichi doesn't want shining praise, just a motivation to keep going, and Seiichi has always been their standard. Yanagi wonders whether Angel Mode could have been discovered earlier if he'd realized just how effective compliments were for Akaya. 

"Then I'm sorry." says Yanagi, smally. "I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you. I'm sorry for not being the one to help you achieve your full potential. I'm sorry for being blind for so long. I failed."

This doesn't bring the anger or even the disappointment that Yanagi was expecting. Instead, Akaya smiles a little. "And you promise you won't avoid me anymore?" he asks, a slight lilt to his voice. "You promise you'll stop running away from me? You promise you'll remember that I have a brain and I'm using it to choose you?"

Yanagi pauses. He has failed Akaya in many ways. But failures can be built upon and new successes can be made from them. "Yes." he says, hesitantly. "I promise."

Akaya's smile could have lit up a room and he grabbed Yanagi's arm, forcefully. "Then let's ditch this hellhole! They have a really cool pool here and I bet it's really good training!" he says, with a bright enthusiasm. 

"Akaya." Yanagi warns, but Akaya looks unapologetic as he drags Yanagi away from the stacks of books, towards the door. 

"Afterwards, you can help me communicate with Uza-Uza, he still doesn't get japanese." he says, breezily. "And I guess if he can't do japanese, I could trrrrryyyy English, right senpai?"

Yanagi is a little taken aback, but he just smirks and ruffles Akaya's hair. "Depends on how fast your laps are. I'll help you if your lap time is under twenty seconds each time."

Akaya's eyes narrow with a challenge accepted, but there is no hint of red like there would have been just a few weeks ago. "Bring it, senpai! I'm going to be number one in the pool!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /and then they all have a pool fight and get assigned a billion laps by Tsuge


	17. Koi no Yokan

They meet in several worlds at several times, but every time that Sanada has laid eyes upon Yukimura and his twinkling eyes, he knows that he is lost.

It's something about the way that Yukimura's lips curve up upon seeing him and the softening of his eyes and the tilt of his head, as if Sanada is the most interesting thing in the world. Many people say that Sanada does a lot for Yukimura, but Yukimura did the biggest thing for Sanada by acknowledging him in every world they meet. 

He doesn't always remember the past when they meet and he falls in love all over again, and those are some of the best universes, because relearning to love Yukimura's bright laugh and his evil grin as he makes people do his saying is one thing that Sanada will never regret. 

Sometimes it doesn't work out. They die tragically, in each other's arms. One dies before the other and one is left wandering the universe bitterly. They fight irreparably. They hold grudges against each other. They dislike each other upon meeting. And sometimes, they never meet and those are the most desolate of all. 

But Sanada holds the memory of a contented grin and the look in his eyes when he wins when he is discontented, and that will always make things better. 

He's met Yukimura so many times and fallen in love in a different way, that the universes blend together. He is no longer sure which universe they stole a spaceship to go and see the stars for one night on Sanada's birthday. He's not quite sure which kingdom it was where they subdued the entire revolution bloodlessly and ruled the whole land with Renji. He's not sure where it was that Yukimura pulled him up onto the stage and the whole world was cheering.

In return, he is not sure when Yukimura burned himself alive to make a point about the forced marriages. He cannot remember how many universes that they both end the world with blood and fire and ice. He cannot remember which universe it was that Yukimura died in a hospital bed, alone. 

He remembers the times when Yukimura kills him with a savage relish, because of the face that Yukimura makes of regret and love. He remembers the times when Yukimura begs Sanada to kill him in stark detail and the relieved expression on his face when it happens. He remembers when they die together, an inch from each other, yet unable to touch. 

He's seen so many Yukimuras that he wonders, in the universes where he finds someone else before Yukimura, whether he would be more content this way, in a more normal relationship, where he does not give up everything for one person. Then he forgets everything when he smells the elusive fragrance of the breeze and the echoing laughter amongst the trees. 

Yukimura pulls him in and makes him whole. He stands as Yukimura's support and strength. They are symbiotic but not unable to cope without each other. They are strong apart, but stronger together. 

And Sanada will never trade in their first meeting in each universe for anything, for that is when he is sure that his love for Yukimura will never change.


	18. Sunburn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt of 'sunburn' from fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Take a holiday in Spain and spend the day at the beach playing beach tennis on the sand and swimming. A summer day of fun and relaxation inbetween tennis tournaments, especially with his friends actually having time off work at that time. Really. It had.

But Yukimura regretted all that fun now, in the aftermath. “Ouch, stop that!” he hissed, slapping away Yanagi’s hand from his red, red back.

Yanagi glared at him, aloe vera in hand and fringe clipped back. “If I don’t do this now, it will be worse tomorrow. And we are going to see the Sagrada Familia and the other tourist sites in Spain. That will involve taking public transport and jostling and wearing wearing clothes. It will hurt even more unless I do this.”

Yukimura scowled and turned his back to Yanagi again, breathing deeply as the aloe cream stung his burned skin. “I could have sworn my sunscreen said SPF 40.” he muttered, darkly, glaring at the accursed bottle in question that clearly said “SPF 15”. He hated having pale and easily burnable skin sometimes. Especially when he glanced over to Sanada who was reading something on his laptop, with a dark tan that didn’t even seem to hurt him. He hadn’t seen Sanada put any sunscreen on.

"Well it didn’t." said Sanada, clearly, glancing up as he shut the lid of his laptop. "And also they say towels soaked in oatmeal can help make it better."

Yukimura wrinkled his nose, oatmeal smelled awful and wasn’t something that Yukimura wanted anywhere on him, sunburn or not. Enduring the aloe nightmare was better. “I think not. I’d rather peel the burnt skin off, piece by piece.” Then he winced as the action of wrinkling his nose sent a crippling pain through his face.

With a slight sigh, Sanada scooted forward, stole some of the cream from Yanagi and smeared it down Yukimura’s nose, very seriously. Yukimura twitched slightly at the sudden sting of pain and Sanada’s mouth quirked up a little. “You look ridiculous.” he said, quietly.

“Yes thank you, I managed to grasp that fact.” Yukimura snapped before sighing in defeat. “Just hurry up, we probably have an early start tomorrow, right?”

Yanagi chuckled softly. “Indeed. But I think you’ll be okay, I’m almost done.”

Sighing slightly in relief, Yukimura shifted his legs to a little to rest them on Sanada’s lap and poke Sanada’s abs with his toes. “I’m never leaving home without a sunhat every again. The brim can be big enough to cover all of my body, I don’t care.”

Sanada squirmed slightly at Yukimura’s idle pokes and Yukimura internally grinned at the sight. “I don’t think you can get hats that big without them just flopping.” he protested, as he leant back, trying to avoid Yukimura’s pokes.”

"If worst comes to worst, Seiichi can take to carrying a parasol everywhere like the Chinese housewives." Yanagi said, slyly, as he finished slathering the cream down towards Yukimura’s lower back and took his hands away.

"Shush you. It’s called starched hats." said Yukimura, shutting his eyes slightly as the soothing effect of the aloe cream started to set in without Yanagi adding extra pain. "I don’t care how I look if it keeps me from feeling like my skin is falling off."

Sanada just shook his head, amusedly. “I’m buying you a lifelong supply of suncream from somewhere that actually works. That’s better than either of the other options.”

From where he was washing his hands of the cream, Yanagi nodded. “I agree, sunscreen that works is much more efficient. Especially considering that we have to re-apply the aloe cream every five to six hours tomorrow.”

Yukimura groaned and tossed his head back. He regretted all of the life decisions that had led him here.


	19. Steal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as they draw near, Niou's eyes rake over Yukimura's figure appreciatively. "Whose bra did you steal for this, boss?" Sanada colours unattractively at Yukimura's side, and Yukimura tilts back his head, letting out a delighted laugh that sounds like bells. It sounds like he's been told a raucously funny joke, rather than a supremely stupid question.

All eyes turn to look at Yukimura when he enters the ballroom. He doesn't smile, just looks somewhat haughty, as he walks in a purposefully sensual manner, letting the dress he's wearing swish around his ankles and heels. He shakes his head slightly, to push the blonde hair from his face. Sanada, who is holding his arm, walks slowly by his side, looking stoic and fierce and generally inapproachable. "Can you not?" he whispers to Yukimura, "I might trip over your dress."

"Tough." says Yukimura, curving up his brightly red painted lips and whispers his dialogue out of the side of his mouth. "The target's watching the show, and we have a persona to create. Don't trip, simple." 

It's not like he really enjoys dressing up like a girl. He gets mistaken enough for a girl without the fake hair extensions and the daring dress that reveals a lot of his pale skin; he has no reason to want to make himself look more feminine. It's actually rather uncomfortable, especially the fake eyelashes, but their target has a weakness of liking beautiful and confident girls. It's rather stupid to protest the fact that he is the most feminine member in the Rikkai syndicate, so he's swallowed his pride to finish the job. Besides, he's always liked attention. 

Yukimura's eyes scan the room haughtily and he spots Niou with a tray of drinks wandering around the guests. By Niou's slightly amused smirk, he's already spotted them and is waiting for them to approach. Yukimura makes a show of tugging at Sanada's arm to grab refreshments and he reluctantly lets himself be pulled along by Yukimura. Yukimura makes sure to not trip over the heels as he walks and catches eyes with the target. The target looks sort of intrigued by Yukimura and Yukimura pulls away from the eye contact, playfully. 

As soon as they draw near, Niou's eyes rake over Yukimura's figure appreciatively. "Whose bra did you steal for this, boss?" Sanada colours unattractively at Yukimura's side, and Yukimura tilts back his head, letting out a delighted laugh that sounds like bells. It sounds like he's been told a raucously funny joke, rather than a supremely stupid question. His smile as he recovers is deadly, for those who recognize his intent. 

"My sister's, if you must know." says Yukimura, icily. "It was difficult to stuff it and still get this dress to look good."

Niou's smirk is filled with amusement and Sanada growls, lowly, tugging at Yukimura's arm. He's playing the part of jealous partner perfectly for the audience around them. Yukimura knows there was a reason he'd used to use Sanada as the main role in all the plays he'd written in high school. "Where's everyone else?" he asks, straight to business. They can't interact with Niou for too long; nobody speaks with a waiter for long at high-end parties like this. 

"Yagyuu's in the kitchen, one pager away. Akabrat's here as the boytoy of the Dowager he's trying to scam with Yanagi. Marui and Jackal are manning the phones at base, in case we need covers." Niou says.

"Is that so?" asks Yukimura, as he looks back and catches the target's eyes again. The target has been staring the whole way through this conversation, which is the best news that Yukimura's heard all evening. He sends the target a languid wink, which Sanada notices, and immediately blocks with his body, gripping Yukimura's wrists, tightly. 

"Go Niou." orders Sanada, firmly, not taking his gaze from his act with Yukimura. Yukimura smirks up at Sanada. "Once you're done with getting angry, storm away from the ballroom angrily." Yukimura says, not changing his expression from a slight look of anger and disgust. 

"And then?" Sanada says, shaking Yukimura's wrists as if Yukimura is annoying him. 

"In 20 minutes, be outside the west side of the house. Get Yagyuu if you need help getting there. Page me once you're waiting. I'll be jumping out the window, get ready to catch me." Yukimura orders, as he pulls his wrists away, like he's furious and gets up into Sanada's face to hiss at him. "Don't worry about a net, I'll deal with getting down to second floor, but I'll drop from there."

Sanada raises his hand like he's about to slap Yukimura, before pulling it down, with disgust etched over his face. '"Got it." he says, before he storms away from the room. 

Good. Yukimura gives himself a few seconds of quiet fury at Sanada, before he sneers slightly, upon spotting Yanagi in another waiter's outfit by an open window. He flounces over to Yanagi, and loudly demands for a cigarette packet. Yanagi looks quietly amused as he draws out the packet and a lighter, handing it to Yukimura, evenly. Cigarettes haven't been part of the plan but Yanagi has still anticipated it. Impressive. "How's Akaya doing?" asks Yukimura, as he lights the cigarette slowly. 

"Well enough. He'll be in her bed by next week and written into her will sometime this month." says Yanagi, calmly. "Then we'll accelerate her death and he'll inherit."

Yukimura just nods as he takes one long drag of the cigarette and puffs out towards the window. He hates smoking, but he has a persona to live up to. "Speed it up if you can, without looking suspicious." he says, as he catches the eyes of the target again and rakes his eyes down the target. The target is definitely interested enough for Yukimura to act. He stubs his cigarette on Yanagi's tray, grabs a glass of champagne and strides towards the target. 

The dress he's wearing looks impractical. It's tight and shows off all of Yukimura's fake assets up top. Around mid-thigh, it starts flowing out like a mermaid dress. But this works for Yukimura, as it hides the tranquilizer pen that he's got stashed inside his garters and has drawn the attention of everyone, because of the sweeping back and neckline. Including the target, who is looking at Yukimura's fake breasts, intently.

"Hello sweetheart." says the target immediately and Yukimura just gives him an unimpressed look, as he takes a sip from his cup. He's so glad that his persona is cool and uninterested in normal pick-up lines. It's wonderful to not have to simper. 

"For someone who's known to throw wild parties, this place is quite the bore." he says, his voice pitched only a few tones higher than his usual voice. He looks out at the target from under his eyelashes. "If I'd wanted to see this tame dancing and boring gossip, I would have attended bridge night at the old people's club a few miles away."

"And what sort of entertainment were you looking for, darling?" asks the man, his eyes glinting. 

Yukimura didn't answer, just taking a sip from his cup, as he let the main wait. Finally, he leans forward a little and quirks his plucked eyebrows. It's not how he usually acts with his targets, but usually he is seducing women, which takes a different set of tactics. He is currently using the methods of Tachibana An, one of the best female con-artists in the underworld, and it's working, judging by the target's gaze darkening and his trousers tightening. 

"Show me a good time." Yukimura whispers, finally, licking the top of his lips discreetly. The target's definitely willing. 

Five minutes later, they're in the target's room, and the target is necking him. It's uncomfortable, but he has to bear it for a little. Once he feels the slight buzz of the pager stuffed into his shoe, he knows he can act. With one quick fumble at his thigh, Yukimura pulls out the tranquilizer and jabs the man in the back of the neck. The man looks horrified, but collapses too quickly to be able to do anything. Yukimura rolls his eyes slightly, as he kicks the other man off him. 

A quick search of the man's room reveals the safe that contains the files that Yukimura's stealing for their client. It takes six tries for Yukimura to be able to guess the combination from the clues around the room (the large poster of AKB48 is the final giveaway). He picks up the files quickly and opens the window. Yanagi has previously confirmed that their security system is turned off for the night, so he'll trip nothing for jumping out of the window. He can see Sanada's red handkerchief underneath him, four floors down and Yukimura frowns. 

He didn't want to have to do this, but there are no easily removable bedsheets or clothes anywhere. The target must have a closet elsewhere. The target's shirt can only do so much. Yukimura takes three tugs at his dress, and tugs away the mermaid part of his skirt, until it is more like a minidress, and rips the circle of fabric into a straight line. He ties it to the target's shirt and tests the strength of the knot. It won't last for long, but Yukimura won't need very long. He drags away the chair at the side of the room, weights the chair down with the unconscious target and ties the end of the long fabric to the chair's hand. 

With one quick swoop, he slips down the rope, wincing a little at the rope-burn along his already-calloused hands. He stops himself abruptly as he reaches the white of the target's shirt and he is about 8 feet above Sanada. "Catch me." he calls, and drops quickly. Sanada's arms catch him quickly, and efficiently place him down. 

"You got the files?" asks Sanada as they start to move away from the mansion. 

"Of course. Yanagi and Niou are out?" Yukimura asks, as he pulls off the heels and slings them over his shoulder. It's chilly out, but he doesn't complain. 

"Yes." Sanada confirms, frowning at the neckbite. Yukimura just glares at him, it's a hazard of the job.

"Let's go, before they figure out that something's wrong." says Yukimura, with a slightly feral grin. His fingers have no fingerprints (an expensive surgery performed by Yagyuu) and they won't be able to get the sufficient DNA samples they need. He's using hair of real human, that leads to a fake trail of paper if they try to track that DNA. Rikkai are untraceable and they have just gained 70,000 USD.

What a perfect night.


	20. Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Anger is like flowing water; there’s nothing wrong with it as long as you let it flow. - Joybell C_

"And so we stand, where the blood of our sisters and our brothers was shed fifty years ago, to fight the same problem that they faced." called Yukimura, calmly. The crowd was larger than the last time he’d spoken, but word had spread faster after Rikkai’s daring actions against the state. They were not the only resistance group, but they were certainly the most influential at the moment, and Yukimura planned to take advantage of that. 

"I wonder what they’d say, to see all of their efforts, all the lives lost, reduced to nothing? We are human, despite what we are fed through media. We are fed lies of equality, lies of a problem that has supposedly already passed, but in the past month, forty people have died in supposed accidents, all critics of the state." Yukimura said, through the mask that filtered his voice, and made his face look unearthly pale.

Child of God. That was what people knew Rikkai’s mysterious leader as. It was dangerous to be yourself in a world where the government knew everything about how to cripple you. Yukimura Seiichi was long dead, in a made-up accident and the person who lived was Kami-no-Ko, with flowing robes of red and yellow, and a pale white mask with blood red tears painted on. 

The crowd was restless as Yukimura paused for effect. At his left, the former Yanagi Renji, wearing the two-faced mask of justice and a grey outfit coughed, softly, as an indicator that the appropriate time had passed, and Yukimura continued. “You know their names. We know their names, even if they have been almost covered up. We know their faces, though they have been distorted to seem like criminals. We know what people say about them, the brainwashed lambs who live in their perfect worlds and cannot see beyond what they are being fed. How can we stand so idly in the face of that?”

The crowd was shouting now, things they could do. The violent things they could do. Yukimura tossed a slight glance to the man at his right, in complete black and the grim metal-mask, that must have hurt to put on every time. Sanada had once suggested a violent overthrow, and at the time, yes, Yukimura had agreed. He’d killed some government people in his time, happily. But his opinions had changed. Violence had been tried by the people of the North three months ago, and they had died. There was no point advocating a massacre. 

"If we fight with violence, what are we?" asked Yukimura. "We become who we fight. No, our battle must be non-violent. We must stand up as justice. We must educate the lambs and hijack their channels and show them the reality. Show them why we stand, show them why we fight. In the end, lambs or not, they are as human as we are. And they will not stand for this."

There were low protests from the people, he saw their skepticism etched over their weary faces, lined with pain and poverty and injustice. "I understand your pain.” said Yukimura, softly. “You are tired of waiting for something to happen. And this is a slow plan of action. Yes. I am tired also. But our brethren in the North are dead. And I refuse to lose more. I have already lost my old family. I wish to keep my new one.”

He took a purposefully shaky breath. He was long over the deaths of his sister and his parents (how could you fight anyone with such obvious attachments and weaknesses?), but he had to act like he was concerned at least. “It does not mean that I am not as angry as you are. I want justice and I want it now!” he yelled, his voice louder than it had been for the whole speech. The echoes of the fake voice bounced off the rusted metal walls and the pipes leading up to the grey night sky. 

"But we must have patience. All good things come to those who wait. Rikkai have not yet started to show the state what we have up our sleeves. We have not yet shown the extent of our rage. Join with us in our anger against the government!" yelled Yukimura, raising his fist into the air, and the crowd cheered along with him, and it was the biggest sensation of peace and power and adrenaline that ran through his veins at that moment. 

He looked over the crowd, where the rest of Rikkai handed out yellow bandannas. The crowd were his and they would defeat their government.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was pretty angry about certain current events colliding with independence day in India. it's like...the anniversary of the best peaceful protest that was met with violence IS LITERALLY A DAY AWAY and they screw up anyway. But of course, I forgot this is America, they don't care to learn from other countries' mistakes.


	21. Seasons

The wind whipped past Sanada’s face harshly, with a cold that bit at his very insides. He had been climbing the mountain for almost eight hours, alone, and he was about two hours from the summit of the peak, at the highest cave. This was not where he had expected the embodiment of Summer to go, but nevertheless, this was where Renji had said that Sanada would find him. 

Sanada caught his breath briefly, watching as the puffs of frosted air drifted away from his mouth and how the snow seemed to melt away from the entrance of the cave. This was the right place, he knew it. 

"Seiichi?" he called, as he walked into the cave, brushing away his crispy hair from his face. 

There was light from a small turn into the cave and Sanada kept walking towards it. As he cautiously proceeded, he felt waves of heat hit him, not something typical from a mountain this high in the sky. Sanada paused briefly, to pull off his thick parka and breathe again, before he entered the cavern,

It was too bright. Sanada’s eyes shut instantly, before any permanent damage could be caused, but he could still feel the heat and the red imprint against his eyelids. “Seiichi?” he called, standing still in his position, feeling the sweat roll down from his temples. 

"Genichirou?" called a hesitant voice, layered by something foreign. Sanada knew that voice though, no matter how distorted it was. It was Seiichi.

"You are alive." he breathed, happily. 

The light faded suddenly, until Sanada could open his eyes, and view the shivering, sweating form of his oldest friend, curled up inside the cape he’d been wearing three weeks ago, when Sanada had last seen him. He couldn’t see Seiichi’s eyes anymore, taken over by the fierce, shining light, but it seemed that Seiichi could see him despite that, judging by his shaky smile. “Did you doubt me, Genichirou? I thought you of all people would have more faith. I cannot be taken down by something so simple as this.”

Sanada dropped to his knees, to be on Seiichi’s level. “Can you blame me? All previous holders of Summer’s power have died.” 

Seiichi shrugged, softly. “I admit, it is more difficult than I expected. The heat in almost unbearable. Even here, the cold does nothing to pacify the heat inside me.” Sanada thought it was a little bit of an understatement, considering it felt like he was in the desert in this middle of this cave. “But I will endure it.”

Sanada reached his hand forward, to smooth away Seiichi’s hair from his face and perhaps pull his friend close into a close hug, but Seiichi flinched away from his touch, to flatten against the wall.

"Don’t touch me." said Seiichi, his voice panicked. "You’ll burn up." To prove his point, he stayed back against the wall, and Sanada stared in horror as the rock started to glow red and small droplets of lava feel away from the sides of the cave that Seiichi touched. Seiichi pulled away from the rock quickly enough and the red glow faded, but he had proved his point. 

Sanada just closed his eyes, in regret. If he could go back to a month ago and make it so that the top students of the Mage Academy hadn’t found that stupid box…”Your whole life like this? Stuck on this mountain and worshipped as a God until the power consumes you and another takes your place?”

"I am not the only one, am I?" asked Seiichi, softly, his eyes shutting. His eyelids couldn’t hide the light from his core and it was eerie to look at. Sanada had to stop a shudder. It was still Seiichi. "Atobe took Winter?"

"And Shiraishi took Spring." muttered Sanada.

It made sense, now, though it had been a spur decision at the time. Summer could defeat Spring, Autumn could defeat Summer, Winter could defeat Autumn and Spring could defeat Winter, while Summer and Winter were equal in capability and Spring and Autumn were equally matched. To keep the seasons in balance, the book had said, to make sure that no one was more powerful than the others together.

"Then who took Autumn?" The small plant-life in the cave was already growing larger, as Sanada watched. He wondered whether this was Seiichi’s influence as summer’s life or merely the heat. 

Sanada was silent, as he glanced down at his wrist. There had only been two choices left, among their large group. “I was going to. Since all three of you volunteered immediately, the rest of our mages had time to debate who would take Autumn and complete the binding. I was the best choice.”

Seiichi’s skin grew brighter and Sanada’s arms flew up to cover his eyes from the heat. “No.” said Seiichi’s voice, sounding more foreign and distorted by several other voices under his tone. The voices of previous summers. “There are others. I will not have you or Renji accept this.”

"Who else? Myself, Tezuka or Echizen. The kingdom needs one mage left with the experience and strength to protect it from tangible foes. Tezuka is both of those. And Echizen is too young to bear this." Sanada pleaded. 

"But let me guess, you volunteered before Tezuka even had the chance to think about it? You are just as good a mage as Tezuka is." said Seiichi’s voice, scorching with his anger. "You could stay alive. But you voted for yourself and the others agreed with your self-sacrificing decision."

Sanada couldn’t deny the truth, so he remained silent. The glowing against his eyes intensified, before it dropped to nothing. When Sanada opened his eyes again, Seiichi looked resigned. “You’d better live for as long as I do. If you succumb to Autumn before I succumb to Summer, I will be very disappointed.” said Seiichi. It was only his voice that spoke and Sanada could only feel relieved. It was probably the last time they would hear each other’s voices, without alteration, and Sanada was grateful for that chance.

"I will stay with you until the end." said Sanada, determinedly, as he unrolled his pack and pulled out the staff of Autumn. Under Seiichi’s gaze, he twisted the staff in his hands, shut his eyes and tapped the staff three time down, as he spoke Autumn’s incantation, and waited for the light to take him.


	22. Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it's vague, this was hurriedly written, but damn, I want to write more of it

A dragon slayer is supposed to be kill dragons that harm humans. Which is why it goes against Sanada’s morals to keep one alive inside the holding facility, especially considering this dragon hasn’t killed anybody else. Still, science is science and scientists want a way to be able to more efficiently kill these creatures, understand them better and try and mimic their strong points. With hide stronger than any weapon that humans have developed so far, and deadly sharp claws that can rip through anything except pure diamond, dragons are the ultimate predators. 

He glances out of the window of the main viewing box, down towards the dragon that he’d captured earlier today. It’s young, he can tell now, without the heat of battle making him focus on how to neutralize the thing. Younger than most senile dragons that attack the human world. It is slumped against the floor, its blue eyes dull and its ears flattened against its head.

It resembles a dog, and that comparison makes Sanada uncomfortable. “Is it alright to leave it bleeding?” he asks Mizuki, main coordinator of the dragon operation.

"It’s a dragon, think of how many people it’s killed." sneers Mizuki, flipping his hair as he frantically types in numbers that are coming from the wires hooked up to the dragon. 

Still, Sanada is uncomfortable. This isn’t part of his job description and somehow, this dragon seems to evoke sympathy from him. 

He gets a chance to visit it later, almost three days afterwards, since it got so angry with it’s captors that it ate three of the scientists. He enters the elaborate prison with his sword in had and the dragon is slumped over again.

"You again." it says, its voice high-pitched and soft, a contrast to its outsides. "Kill me, please."

Sanada can practically hear the begging in its voice. It misbehaved so it could die? How wretched must you feel to think of something like that? “Does it hurt so much?” asks Sanada, not lowering his sword, but relaxing his shoulders. “The tests?”

"No." says the dragon. "But dragons are meant to be free, meant to fly. I cannot even stretch in a chamber like this. I would rather die now, than live here any longer."

Sanada does lower his sword at this point. “They want to study you. They think you’re fascinating. They would be quite disappointed if you died. If we bandaged your wounds and gave you a larger space, would you cooperate with us?” he asks, quietly.

The dragon’s eyes looks up from the floor and it stares at him, like it’s looking straight through him. It’s golden scales look duller than they had been three day ago. “Just kill me, please.” it begs and Sanada shakes his head, as he drops his sword and slowly walks forward.

"I do not kill dragons who have not harmed anyone." Sanada says, calmly. 

"I killed three of your scientists, so kill me!" the dragon counters. 

"You are scared. That is like blaming a hungry dog for eating what is in front of him. I will not kill you." declares Sanada, loudly. "What can I do to make you want to live?"

The dragon’s eyes meet his again and this time, Sanada feels like he is being consumed by the passion therein. “Tell me your name.” it asks, finally.

"Sanada Genichirou." he calls. "Yours?"

The gold dragon shifts, and it’s ears rise a little. “My name is too difficult for humans to speak, but a translation would be son-of-god, because of these scales of mine.”

"They are beautiful scales." Sanada agrees and if dragons could smile, this one is smiling.

He is called back almost a week later, by Mizuki, who asks him to stay as a permanent attachee to the facility, with a sniff about how the dragon behaved better when Sanada was there than it ever has for Mizuki. At first, he is hesitant to accept, but he realizes that his protege, Kirihara is probably old enough to handle any dragons attacks that come his way, and that Kirihara can also contact him if he does need Sanada’s help.

Besides, something in the younger dragon’s eyes had fascinated him. 

Which means that Sanada usually spends a lot of time talking with the dragon as the scientists conduct their experiments, in order to distract the dragon. It’s a surprisingly good conversationalist and Sanada lets it talk at him, knowing that Mizuki and the other senior scientists are listening and gathering information about it.

It’s also just Sanada’s nature to be reticent. He isn’t the sort to speak much and the dragon seems to detect that and seems content with it. It’s quite something when a dragon is better at understanding him than some humans. 

"Some days, I think it would be better to die." muses the dragon, almost four months after it is captured, as it watches the scientists attempt to chip away at one of its scales with little success. "Were I ever to return to my people, they would hate me for giving in to something like this."

Sanada watches the dragon quietly, waiting for it to explain. “I am aiding the own death of my people, when I was supposed to save them. A child with gold scales is special, is supposed to bring great change. Now I will bring horrendous change.” The dragon’s tone is flat and it sighs, exhaling smoke into Sanada’s face and momentarily stops the scientists as they wait for the white to clear. 

"We do not wish to kill all dragons. Only the ones who kill us without reason." says Sanada, quietly, but he doesn’t truly believe it. Everybody nowadays hates dragons. Few are bestowed with the ability to see both sides. He is forever grateful to his grandfather for telling him that while all villains were dragons, that not all dragons were villains. 

The dragon’s eyes meet Sanada’s and it laughs, a grating sound, unlike previous laughs and the scientists stiffen. Sanada doesn’t even react, he knows that the dragon will not hurt him, at least. “You do not truly believe that. Once I am no longer of use, you humans will kill me and all of my brethren. I’m not a fool, even if I am merely fifty years old.”

Sanada’s lips just pull into a tight frown. “I would not want to kill you.”

The dragon’s eyes soften. “Yet if I were to die, I would want it at your hands.”

Sanada’s throat bobs and he nods. “And I at yours.” he says, simply.


	23. Challenge

Meditation was always Sanada's way of finding calm and solace and finding himself. In a busy world, it was hard to achieve, but Sanada enjoyed the challenge. The only sound in the dojo was his light breathing and the wind outside. He sunk further into his conscious, away from the distractions of th world, but before he could properly immerse himself, a sound came through, like a door opening.

There was someone behind him. He could feel their chi. It was a strong chi, burning bright and hard. Not soft and subtle like Renji...so....“You know, if you wanted, you could beat me for captaincy.” said Yukimura, casually.

Sanada cracked an eye open. “Probably.” he agreed. Yukimura liked to tease and taunt people. It was his way of testing their character, to see if they were strong enough of deserving his attention.

“Would you like that? To have the team as yours entirely?” asked Yukimura, his sweet voice soft in his ear, his minty cool breath against the back of his neck.

“It would never happen.” said Sanada, coolly. Yukimura’s influence was strong. Even if Yukimura abdicated and made him captain, nobody would accept it and they would defer to Yukimura first. It was Yukimura’s strength and power that enabled this entire tennis club, that was how it had always been.

“But if it did? If I’d never been around?” asked Yukimura, as he circled around to meet Sanada’s eyes.

Sanada deliberately met his gaze. He had nothing to hide. “It would be irrelevant, since you’re the reason I followed tennis competitively instead of kendo. Without you, I’d be on the kendo team and not even at Rikkai.”

Yukimura’s lips twitched up at the side and Sanada felt a vicious stab of satisfaction. He didn’t like playing along with Yukimura’s games and often challenged them as subtly as he could,without letting anyone else know. 

“You’re bad at hypotheticals.” said Yukimura, with a soft jab to Sanada’s side.

Sanada shut his eyes and went back to meditating. But Yukimura’s chi was so strong that Sanada could see him regardless.

“You’re like a turtle you know that?” said Yukimura, as the younger boy dropped to sit in front of Sanada, mimicking Sanada’s seiza. “The moment that someone says something you dislike, you withdraw into your shell.”

Sanada almost snorted. If anyone else displeased him, he exploded. He tempered himself with Renji and Yukimura, who he admired and treasured beyond compare, but that was it. “That’s not true.” he said, calmly, not opening his eyes. “But it is better to retreat from a battle that you will lose from the beginning, rather than waste your forces upon something futile.”

Yukimura’s chi grew sharper and Sanada could practically hear his eyebrow raising. “So you feel that fighting me is futile?”

“Not in tennis.” admitted Sanada. “But in other things, yes.”

The chi intensified a little and Sanada almost winced. “Come out from your turtle shell for a little while, Sanada. If you were captain of the tennis club without me, would you enjoy it?” The voice was sharp and demanding and not something that Sanada could escape with enough words or abstract obfuscation.

Sanada sighed and opened his eyes and came out of seiza, into a more relaxed state. Yukimura was not going to leave him alone long enough to finish.

“I don’t know.” said Sanada, calmly. “I can lead, as evidenced by your departure, but it wasn’t enjoyable during those few months. However when I was captain of the kendo club in grade school, it was definitely more interesting that being vice-captain of tennis. The truth is, I cannot imagine tennis without you, Yukimura, so this question to me is unanswerable.”

Yukimura’s lips parted momentarily. Not by much, but the tightly pressed contemplation of before was gone. His eyes were lighter too, and Sanada felt like he’d passed some sort of test.

“Turtle.” he said, but it was with more fondness this time around.


	24. Hair

It just wasn’t fair.

Every morning, Yukimura managed to pull himself out of bed (with enormous difficulty) and tugged his way through an enormity of tangles in his wavy hair. It took almost fifteen minutes of Yukimura almost falling asleep at the mirror to untangle his hair, by which point, he contemplated for the billionth time whether to cut his hair, whether he had to stick his head under a spray of water to make it easier to pull through and whether he should braid his hair before going to sleep. It took fifteen minutes of pain almost equivalent to needles poking out of everywhere, and fifteen minutes of glaring at his bleary reflection to make his hair look vaguely presentable. 

And then Fuji just got out of bed, with fifteen extra minutes of sleep, literally shook his hair once, and it managed to look flawless and sleek and glossy.

Yukimura hated it. At least Shiraishi had the decency to comb his hair a little bit and run a large amount of gel through it to make his hair look gorgeous. But no. Fuji-fucking-Mr-perfect-hair-Syuusuke just had to be able to get perfect hair in less time than it took Yukimura to blink. 

He glared at Fuji from where he was grabbing some toast in the breakfast hall, with a bitter look as he laughed with Kikumaru. When Fuji made a perfect hair toss while making some joke, Yukimura stabbed a large piece of watermelon with rather more force than necessary, causing some red to spill everywhere. 

Kirihara, who was behind him, looking on trepidation, gulped. “B-buchou?” he asked, timidly, and upon meeting Yukimura’s remnants of the Fuji glare, quivered and excused himself quickly. 

Shiraishi, behind him in the line was just suppressing laughter as he watched Kirihara flee to where Marui was sitting. Bastard. He hated his room-members.

(By the time he got some food in him and Fuji brought him some coffee, and Shiraishi the prospect of watching someone humiliate themselves on the tennis courts, Yukimura’s uncharitable thoughts vanished. That was, until the next morning.)


	25. JACKAL BIRTHDAY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bae, I love you, have an awesome birthday

With a weary sigh, Jackal traipsed back into his hotel room, and collapsed on his bed, turning up to face the ceiling. His bones ached and his hands throbbed a little still from the final act of the circus performance. It had been a long day. They always had to practise extra hard for the first day of performances in a new place, mostly because the animals always got freaked out by the new location, and needed at least four practise runs of the entire show. 

Despite all of that, in his final somersault through the flaming loop, the horse had almost bucked him, and it had taken all of Jackal’s wits to turn it into a series of backflips, instead of an undignified collapse. Circus life was never easy but it was never boring either. It took quick thinking and incredible athletic prowess, and if there was one thing that Jackal had always been good at, no matter which country he’d lived in, it was athletics. 

From tennis, to capoeira, to hip-hop and to football, Jackal had excelled in every field that involved hand-eye coordination or any sort of physical stamina or prowess. He’d even managed to beat Sanada in those aspects, though it hadn’t been without some hard work. 

And even now, circus work remained hard work. Never a break, as they traveled from country to country, performing show after show, with little breaks and very little pay as well. Still, Jackal was popular. This was not the nineteenth century,w here cirques were filled with freaks. This was the twenty-first century, where Jackal was one of the many stars who were internet famous and quite admired. Thanks to his and Yukimura’s schedules occasionally meeting up, and the two of them getting photographed while at a local pub, a lot of sporting fans knew him was Yukimura’s friend too, which was almost more publicity than any of his normal stunts afforded him. And he also knew that if he ever quit the circus, he’d always have a job as a stunt-man, thanks to a generous casting director. 

Still, he couldn’t see himself doing that. The circus was too enjoyable, for all of its flaws.

With a light sigh, Jackal peeled himself away from the covers of the well-made hospital bed, and reached for his laptop, from his locked suitcase. A glance at the time confirmed that it would already be mid-afternoon in Japan, of the 3rd of November. His birthday. It still had’t even reached midnight here, but Jackal opened his emails anyway.

The first email was from Marui, with a smiley face in the subject title. Jackal clicked on it and laughed. A large sparkly gif of happy birthday cake glittered at him, with a small note underneath saying: _This is a placeholder for an actual message. Just know that I’M FIRST BECAUSE I’M A TENSAI_

Jackal laughed again, and clicked on the next message, which was unsurprisingly from Yanagi.

_Jackal,_

_This would have been earlier, but I had to finish up a lab assignment. Happy birthday to you. It’s been some time since we’ve seen each other, perhaps you should pop by Japan some time? Since your schedule will not likely include it._

_I hope that your day goes well and that the performances also go well. I try and watch as many as I can. If you’re wanting anything in particular from Japan, send me a message as well as your schedule for the next two weeks, and I’ll get it for you._

_Sincerely, Renji._

It sounded like the data master hadn’t changed much. He’d never been entirely close with Yanagi, but he’d always appreciated Yanagi’s presence. 

Jackal smiled, warmly, as he flopped onto his stomach, adjusted himself on the bed accordingly, and opened up the next message, which was…Niou’s? It wasn’t like the trickster to ever send him birthday messages. Not that he and Niou weren’t friendly, merely that he didn’t do that for anyone except Yukimura and Yagyuu. He and Niou had always gotten along well, because he’d never annoyed Niou and Niou had therefore rarely pranked him. It had been a mutual acknowledgement of existence.

There was a link in the email and Jackal tilted his head to the side, with a slight frown. _It’s not spam or porn, I promise :x,_ started out Niou, predicting Jackal’s thoughts before he could even really think them, _Just saw this and thought of our joyous history. Have a good one._

Jackal shrugged and clicked on the link, before barking with laughter upon seeing a wig that looked exactly the same as Yukimura’s hair. Oh gosh, he still remembered how outraged he’d been upon receiving the wig, and how he’d ranted to Niou, Marui and anyone else who would listen. 

He chuckled softly, and moved onto the next email, from Yagyuu. He wondered briefly whether Yagyuu had reminded Niou to send an email, before dismissing it. They were no longer practically the same person, it wasn’t fair to think that.

 _Dear Jackal,_ started Yagyuu, like he was writing a letter, 

_It’s been a pleasure to have your acquaintance for so long. Honestly, it’s a wonder that we have stayed friends for ten whole years, from the start of middle school, to the end of college. It’s honestly amazing. And I have been incredibly lucky to have someone as kind as you as a friend. You’ve always been reliable and friendly for all of us, even when we haven’t always appreciated it._

_Even from across the world, you’ll always inquire to our mental health and physical health and how you can help, and it never fails to be touching. So I wanted to thank you and wish one of the best birthdays in the world. I would offer to buy you something, but by the time that the mail from Japan leaves, you’ll probably have already left. Instead, the next time that you’re around the area, I’ll buy you dinner._

_Regards, Yagyuu_

Formal as ever, but Jackal felt himself smile softly at the message. He appreciated Yagyuu’s words. Honestly, being kind wasn’t a hardship, especially not with such accepting and crazy friends. He’d always counted himself lucky to have such ambitious and wild friends. Still, people had always counted it a a miracle, considering how ruthless Rikkai was known to be. 

He cracked out his neck,as he clicked on the next message from Sanada. He snorted a little, at the curt and simple: _Happy Birthday, Jackal._ Typical of Sanada, but no less amusing at how simple it was compared to other emails. Still, the fact that Sanada had taken time out of being in the NPA training academy to send him a message was appreciated. 

The next was Yukimura, which was surprising, considering it was around four in the morning in France. Still, Yukimura’s sleep schedules were weird and Jackal didn’t like to think on it. One thing he could say for not being mainstream popular, was that he still got to sleep a decent amount every day. 

_I think we only saw each other last month, because that’s what the tabloids say, but it honestly feels like forever. I still find it amusing that they think we’re dating. Still, this isn’t about that, this about your birthday. Happy Birthday! Have an awesome one and don’t work too hard or I will yips you from here, don’t think I won’t._

_I’ll hopefully see you before the tennis season ends for good, but if I don’t, we’ll see each other soon, and when we do, we will get soddingly drunk, until we are singing national anthems on tops of tables, okay? And I will be paying, so you can buy expensive fancy wine if you really want to. (I wouldn’t advise it though, I did it while on Atobe’s tab and they taste like balls.)_

_Anyway, have a good performance and a good one. Thank you for being my friend._

_Yours, Seiichi._

Jackal snorted, he could almost hear Yukimura’s voice through the email. He also wondered exactly why Atobe and Yukimura had gotten drunk together and where it was that Yukimura had tasted balls, but those were questions left for when they saw each other next.

Jackal switched position, until the laptop was perched on his knees and he was staring up. He was almost certain that the laptop would fall onto his face in the future, but he would enjoy this while it lasted. He blinked at the length of the next email from Akaya. Blimey!

He quickly skimmed through most of it, and upon finding a large caps locked Happy Birthday near the end of the message, he started up a couple of paragraphs before that. 

_And then Shishido whacked him and the police were called, but they took our side, which was totally awesome, and we saw Tezuka, actually! Apparently he and Sanada-senpai work together, it’s so fucking weird. But the pets were saved!_

_BUT ANYWAY, I’m way off topic! So HAPPY BIRTHDAY JACKAL SENPAI! You’re like the most awesome person because you always spend your money on me and always listen to me and you never once make me feel dumb, so thanks, I guess. I hope today is awesome, and I bought you something, so when you hurry up and get back to Japan, I’ll give it to you then, along with last year’s present. Stay cool._

_Akaya!_

Jackal laughed and smiled a little. That was typical Akaya. He’d read the rest of it later, when he had a bit more free time and a little less emails in his inbox. He marked it as unread, and was about to start reading Kawamura’s email, when he phone went off. A text from Marui.

**Guess what?**

Jackal frowned. Didn’t texts from Japan cost more money? What was Marui doing? He frowned, but texted back. **What?**

There was a large pounding on his hotel room door and Jackal looked up, with a slightly confused tilt of his neck. his crew-members were probably already asleep, or still checking out the sauna. Why was there a knock at the door? Room service? He pushed himself up to his elbow, careful to place the laptop down on his table, as the door thudded again.

"I’m coming." he yelled, as he shuffled across the room reluctantly and unlocked the door, to see something completely unexpected. "Bunta?!" he demanded, upon seeing a grinning redhead on his doorstep, with a large box.

Marui grinned, widely, as he pushed the box up with a spare knee. “Happy Birthday, mate. Thought that if you refuse to come back to Japan, Japan needs to come to you, don’t you think?”

Jackal took the box from Marui, and placed it on the front table next to the door, before turning around to grip Marui’s shoulders. He’d seen Marui’s pictures on weibo and other sites, but it wasn’t quite the same as finally seeing his friend for the first time in person for almost a year and a half. He’d gotten tanner, and he was starting to get freckles, if he wasn’t mistaken. His shoulders were a little broader, and he seemed to have lost a little weight, which worried Jackal a little. 

"You going to do anything with the fact that you’ve got me here?" asked Marui, with a grin, not really protesting to Jackal’s tight grip on his shoulders. 

Jackal pulled him closer to kiss him tightly, and Marui’s hands wrapped around his shirt, as they pressed together, breaking apart only for air. Marui’s hands felt a lot more calloused than before and Jackal mused that chef school was probably paying off. They exchanged a few more desperate kisses, before Jackal finally pulled apart completely, remembering his backaches and that having sex on the kitchen counter was probably not something that the hotel would appreciate greatly. 

"Best birthday present ever." said Jackal lowly, as he pulled his shirt down and properly looked at Marui again. Gosh, he really did look different. Even hotter than he had been in school.

"I’m a tensai, you see." said Marui, with a wink, that looked more lazy than anything, with his swollen lips and messed-up hair. "I brought cake too. I would have made it myself, but you know, customs don’t like you bringing dairy products on the plane in case you’re hiding explosive in the icing."

Jackal blinked and his eyes widened. “You…brought cake for me? Marui Bunta, the connoisseur and cake-hogger, brought cake for me?”

Marui laughed and elbowed Jackal. “Ahh, come off it, you think you’re going to eat this cake alone? You just get first slice.” Well, that sounded much more like Marui, didn’t it?

"Midnight cake, how healthy," murmured Jackal, as he rummaged around for a knife in the drawer. 

"Like you’re complaining, Jackal." said Marui, slyly, as he ran a hand through his hair to make it more crumpled, and Jackal mused that between Marui and cake, he probably wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.


	26. Illness

Yanagi sniffed blearily, as his alarm clock went off and the whole world started spinning. Oh. He was ill. His nose felt horrendously blocked and his throat felt sore, despite having felt just fine the night before. His sick days always happened like this, however, so Yanagi didn’t fret, just reached out for his phone on his bedside table and speed-dialed the second number on the list.

Calling Akaya wasn’t nearly as efficient as actually going over to Akaya’s house and tipping him out of his blankets, but Yanagi felt dreadful and wouldn’t be able to go to school or even get up just yet. Finally, the phone connected and he heard a slightly bleary groaning noise from the other side. “Yanagi-senpai?” came Akaya’s voice, through the phone, sounding just as tired as Yanagi.

"I’m ill today, so I won’t be coming to get you. This is a reminder to get up, eat something and go to school, otherwise Seiichi will make you run laps." Yanagi said, wincing a little at how scratchy his voice was.

"Are you dying senpai?’ asked a panicked Akaya and Yanagi chuckled, despite the pain that caused to his vocal chords. "It’s just a cold. Don’t worry about it. Go to school. Don’t go back to sleep. I will know if you went back to sleep." He managed a stern tone, before he started coughing again and ruined the effect. It was frustrating. He and Inui were made of the same cloth, even in this. They rarely got ill, but when they did get ill, once or twice a year, it was always awful. He remembered how despairing their parents had been, when it happened, until they’d just gotten used to their quirks.

"Alright, senpai.." said Akaya, sounding nervous and Yanagi nodded. "Bye Akaya." he said, as he hung up on the call. He sent a quick text to Sanada, informing his friend that he was ill and whether Sanada could take pictures of his notes throughout the day, before turning off his phone and going back to sleep.

(X)

It was a fairly peaceful day, as he drifted in and out of sleep, disturbed by runny or stuffed noses and random fits of coughing. Still, he only left bed once, to relieve himself, preferring to stay within the confines of his room and his warm bed. His mother and sister were never home anyway, so it wasn’t too different to one of his lazy weekends (which became increasingly rare as he became more friendly with Yukimura and Sanada).

As he sweatily stirred a little, in the late evening, Yanagi heard the door slam shut. His sister was probably home from work. He didn’t stir, choosing instead to turn over on his side and try and get back to sleep. Still, the sound of feet on the stairs were nothing like the light steps of his sister and nothing like the slow, deliberate steps of his mother. In fact, they sounded rather like-

His room door was pushed open with a bang and Akaya peered in, with wide eyes and a worried expression. He looked like he’d run here, but mostly, Yanagi was wondering how Akaya had gotten in. Had his sister left the door unlocked this morning? “Senpai, are you okay?” he asked, with a look. “Sanada-fukubuchou said that you were home alone while you were sick!”

Yanagi pulled himself up to his elbows, and sighed internally, at Sanada having let that slip. Only Sanada and Yukimura knew that he might as well live by himself for how much he saw his mother, and he’d been hoping to keep it like that. His mother was doing the best she could to pay the bills, since they’d moved to Kanagawa, so she could escape the memories of his father after their divorce. The last thing she needed was the government trying to step in.

"It’s just a cold, Akaya. I don’t need much care. Just sleep." he said, between a few coughs. Akaya frowned instantly as he marched forward and dumped his bags by Yanagi’s desk, before placing a hand to Yanagi’s forehead. "Do you have a thermometer, Yanagi-senpai?" he asked, with a frown, as he evidently didn’t know what was too hot or not.

Yanagi shook his head slightly to get rid of Akaya’s hand, despite how soothing the cool sensation was against his face. “You’ll get ill as well, Akaya, and you get very ill for a long amount of time. Go home and finish your homework.”

Akaya shook his head. “Nope. I don’t have any homework, anyway. And my mum always says that you need tender loving care when you’re ill.”

Yanagi just raised an eyebrow in response to the blatant lie that Akaya didn’t have any homework. Akaya’s expression blanched, but grew firm again, quickly. “Not much, anyway.” he defended, staunchly, crossing his arms across his chest. “And you need food. I bet you haven’t eaten at all, have you, senpai?”

Was Yanagi really trusting Kirihara with making food? He trusted Inui more, which was possibly sad, considering nothing that Inui had made was even vaguely edible. “I ate lunch and got an apple, to keep my doctors away.” he lied, as he slumped a little further into the bed. “Don’t bother about it.”

"Lie." said Akaya, instantly, with a petulant pout. "I’m going to make you something, Jackal-senpai and I got something you’d probably like when we were walking home."

Yanagi watched Akaya’s retreating back and groaned, as he sneezed three times in a row. He didn’t have the energy to make Akaya stop. He collapsed back against his pillow and waited for his doom. To his surpise, Akaya came back with a steaming bowl and a steaming pot of tea balanced on a tray and he carefully, carefully wobbled over to Yanagi. It was chicken noodle soup and some sort of pleasant jasmine tea, that was supposedly very expensive. He glanced to Akaya, who didn’t even seem to notice that the tea was expensive. Yanagi remembered with a start, that Akaya’s parents paid for Rikkai, because Akaya only had a minimal sports scholarship, not a full scholarship like Yanagi. “Alright, you should drink the tea first, right?” Akaya asked, as he pulled Yanagi’s chair closer to Yanagi’s bed and nervously bounced on the seat.

Yanagi smiled, a little, as he took a sip from the tea. Not bad at all. It could have been left to steep for a little longer, but Akaya hadn’t failed at making it taste good. “It’s good.” he said, as he let the hot tea pour down his throat and soothe him.

Akaya smiled, widely, looking happy for the validation and Yanagi took a cautious sip of the chicken noodle soup. Oh, it was instant soup, but it was still far better than Sadaharu, who failed to make instant ramen properly. “You learnt how to make instant noodles.” said Yanagi and Akaya laughed, cheerfully, as he ran his hands through his hair.

"My housekeeper keeps telling me that I’ll be hopeless once I get to college and she has to teach me basics now." he explained, softly. "And besides, I wanted to do something for you, senpai. You’re always helping me get to school in time and you help me with homework. And you never ever need the sort of help I can give. So this is payback." He said, stubbornly, his face serious as he gripped the front of the chair’s seat.

Yanagi felt very touched and he let a small smile reach his face, as he drank the tea down, quickly. He supposed he could let Akaya stay…even if he ended up catching a cold himself. “Tell me about what happened today.” he said, with a small smile. “I did miss out on all the gossip, after all.”

Akaya grinned mischievously, as he moved to sit cross-legged at the foot of Yanagi’s bed, not seeming fazed by Yanagi’s germs. “You wouldn’t believe what happened to Marui-senpai today, Yanagi-senpai!” Yanagi just nodded, as he took a sip of the chicken noodle soup and sat in to listen to a day’s regalings.

Somewhere around the third story, Yanagi found himself nodding off despite himself, and through a half-asleep state, he felt Akaya’s hands fluff up his pillows, place one last cool hand on his head, and shut Yanagi’s room door behind him.

The next day, Yanagi was better, but Akaya was said to have reported in sick. Everyone gave Yanagi a look, but he just zipped his lips and vowed to make his own after-school visit.


	27. Injuries

With a grunt, Yanagi fell backwards, hitting the hard, cold mat with his back and jerked backwards a little. “I’m done.” he said, quickly, to avoid any more abuse and he shut his eyes completely as he leant back against the mat, feeling the aches and pains all over his body. Having landed on the mat six times so far with his bony spine, his back would have a line of yellow-green bruises tomorrow, and his left knee throbbed with pain from where he’d landed wrong from a high kick.

His breath was heavy as he probed his ribs, where he’d taken some hard kicks, and upon tasting iron, Yanagi’s tongue went to the corner of his mouth, frowning at the openly bleeding cut from his lower lip, where Sanada’s ring must have clipped him. 

He wondered exactly how a plain gold band had managed to cut Yanagi, since it had no sharp parts (unlike Marui’s monstrosity of a sapphire ring, which was almost designed for the express purpose of being big and poky enough to hurt people in a fight). 

"Are you okay, Renji?’ asked Sanada’s concerned voice and Yanagi nodded, not opening his eyes, as he let the pain from everywhere just resonate through his body for a little bit, as his punishment for not having improved as much as Yanagi had hoped. "Nothing broken or fractured. Just bruises and twisting." he said. 

Sanada’s warm hand settled over Yanagi’s forehead, gently, before it withdrew, and there was a pleasant silence, broken only by their breathing. Finally, Yanagi cracked open his eyes again, blinking a little at the bright, unfettered light that hit his face and settled his eyes to their usual, half-lidded existence. Pulling himself to his elbows, he winced as he discovered a twinge in his right elbow. Sanada’s hands instantly supported his back and helped him come up to a sitting position. 

"You shouldn’t have asked me to go all out if you weren’t ready." rebuked Sanada, his voice tight and clipped, as he ran his hand through his hair. "I could have seriously hurt you."

"I was distracted, I apologize, Genichirou." said Yanagi, with a frown, as he ran his hand over his knees, rubbing it out a little with his thumbs, to probe out how bad the damage was. "It was my mistake."

Sanada heaved a sigh, with a worried glare on his face. “Well, your execution is perfect. You know your katas and how to place your shots. But there’s no strength behind them. You need to eat more and gain more muscle from working out.” he said, as he squeezed Yanagi’s thin arms, to make his point. 

"You also need to balance your centre of mass, so you can grab the longest possible lever arm, without injuring yourself. You tried to use the principles of torque to your advantage when you were flipping me, but your own centring wasn’t good enough, so we both tumbled over. You lost your element of shock, because you were feeling the shock of impact as well." Sanada explained and Yanagi just nodded, with a determined set to his throat, trying to ignore the fact that Sanada’s hand was inching lower and lower, from his upper back, to the small of his back. 

He knew what he was doing wrong in terms of fighting, it wasn’t like he didn’t know that he didn’t have as much power as Sanada. It was just very difficult to amend. There weren’t enough hours in the day for Yanagi to increase his muscle mass significantly in a short amount of time, and still fulfill his own duties in the more mental aspect of teaching people how to hack and play the Game online.

"It doesn’t matter as much as it could." said Yanagi, with a grim smile. "I won’t be doing any fighting in real life. In the Game, all I need to know are how to execute attacks. If I increase my power stats by getting my avatar to power up, there’s a 76.5% chance I can simply throw over my opponents without worrying about their muscle mass."

That was one of the only reasons that the disabled Yukimura was even half as capable as he could be. He could hardly speak in real life, but in the cyberworld, his mind only needed to practise and he could do things that even the most physically able couldn’t manage in real life. Considering he almost never left the cyberworld, not even to sleep, he had a lot of practise,

Sanada shook his head, as his hand stopped on the small of Yanagi’s back and slowly rubbed his fingers there, removing a tension that Yanagi hadn’t even noticed that he’d had. “Centring, Renji. You need to work on centring. If you can bend your knees and take a hit without tumbling, it doesn’t matter how much your avatar has in power, you’ll go down. You’ll go down faster if your mass is more, you know that.”

Yanagi sighed, tempted to fall straight back down from the pain clouding his mind, despite Sanada’s massaging. He twisted his opal ring around his finger, with a little anxiety. “I’m not ready for this, Genichirou. You and Seiichi would be better off sending Akaya to infiltrate the Game.” he said, with a slightly worried glance at his knee.

Sanada snorted. “If you’re not ready, he’s a light year away. He’s too rash, too impulsive. He won’t listen to directions and he does not know nearly as much about the Game as the avatar is supposed to. You’re best for this. You just need to focus on fighting- and not injure yourself with foolhardy actions.” He scowled, his motions stopping as he voice dropped. “You’re not supposed to be the impatient one.”

Yanagi softened a little, as he wrapped his own arm around Sanada’s back and pulled him a little closer, until they leant on each other. “I want to be ahead of schedule, that’s all.”

"And you just put yourself behind." snapped Sanada. "I’m not fighting you again until you’re in perfect condition."

Yanagi didn’t point out that he could just as easily ask any of the other Rikkai members who were also excellent fighters. They both knew that he didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of anyone else. Besides, Sanada was the best. If Yanagi was going to join the best group inside the Game, he needed to learn from the best. 

"It won’t take more than three days." said Yanagi, evenly and soothingly, lying through his teeth as he felt another twinge from his knee. He would be able to fake being better in three days, however, as he got used to the pain. He didn’t need to heal because Sanada was right, Akaya wasn’t the correct choice for this job. So he had to be able to do it, injured or not. "And I shall get my duties out of the way then, so I can focus on centring for the rest of week up to the Game tryouts."

Sanada didn’t look very convinced, but he didn’t say anything, as he leant forward to wipe away the blood that dripped from Yanagi’s lip, with his thumb, gently. Yanagi’s lashes fluttered shut at the tender touch and he glanced up at Sanada, with a slight smile. “Will you help me back to my room, Genichirou?” he asked.

Sanada nodded, and gently pulled Yanagi up to his feet, Yanagi leant his arm around Sanada’s shoulder, grateful that they were almost the same height as they started to limp away from the sparring room, back towards to Yanagi’s loft room. He regretted having chosen it, now, although he usually relished in the quiet that he garnered from choosing an inconvenient room to get to. 

Somehow, they managed to make it up to his door, and Yanagi was able to push it open. Sanada’s eyes darkened a little, as Yanagi started to strip off his shirt, so he could examine his bruised chest and back further, and Sanada turned from the room, quickly. 

Yanagi just called his name, which caused the bulkier man to stop in his path. “Won’t you stay, Genichirou?” he asked, with a cool look. ‘You weren’t satisfied with that spar at all.” Perhaps he could make Sanada feel less disappointed in one area, at least. 

Sanada’s back faced Yanagi for a whole minute, as Yanagi continued to frown at his elbow in the mirror, before he felt warm hands against his shoulders, and strong fingers pressing against his muscles.

Yanagi tilted around to catch Sanada’s mouth into a kiss, which was more tender than their usual dalliances. Sanada’s tongue hesitantly flickered against Yanagi’s cut, before he pulled at Yanagi’s lip a little more, causing the fragile clot that had formed over his cut to split again. Their kiss was tainted with the taste of iron, but Yanagi couldn’t really find it within himself to mind, as he pressed himself closer to Sanada and felt Sanada’s hands tighten around his mottled skin. Yanagi’s eyes shut and he felt a heady sense of relaxation hit him. He wondered how many more kisses it would take until his wounds didn’t hurt anymore.

(almost an hour later, on the verge of a sated and relaxed sleep, Yanagi had counted 123.)


	28. Colder Nights

The night was chilly, with breezes whirling past his exposed nose, and Yanagi wrapped his cloak around him tighter, futilely. The fire in front of him was practically useless, no matter how close he sat next to it, even with the sparks flying everywhere. The wind stole the warmth before it could reach him so Yanagi frowned, reached forward and extinguished it. 

The cold didn’t increase, so Yanagi felt a little more vindicated in his actions, and huddled in on himself further, tucking his knees under his chin awkwardly. His legs were just far too long and thin to properly fit around him and he pulled a face as he tried to focus on staying awake through the cold night. 

Still, it was difficult after a long day of walking and he found himself drifting off, when there was a light moan from his travelling companion. Sprawled up in their sole sleeping bag, Akaya tossed around, looked pained, his hair twisted and gnarled and his face screwed up in pain. Ignoring the pins and needles that pricked his legs as he unfolded them, Yanagi reached forward and woke Akaya up from his dream, before it got too set in. 

Akaya bolted upwards as Yanagi shook him awake, his eyes widened and lost, for a few brief moments, before they narrowed back to his usual green, sharp gaze. He shivered and pulled the sleeping bag around him quickly, to cover his bare arms, which were quickly getting goosebumps. “‘S cold.” he complained, sleepily. “Is it my turn to take over watch, senpai?” he asked, with a half-concealed yawn. 

Yanagi shook his head. “You had a nightmare. I thought you might appreciate being taken away from it before it ran its course.”

Akaya nodded, with another barely concealed yawn, which only added to Yanagi’s own bone-tired weariness. “I don’t think I can go back to bed, senpai.” he said, as he burrowed down into the sleeping bag, more. “We might as well switch now.”

He really wanted to sleep. Really. But Akaya still looked slightly haunted and there was still an exhaustion set in Akaya’s bones that looked unfamiliar and alien to Yanagi’s gaze. “Want to talk about it?” asked Yanagi, softly, as he moved a little closer to Akaya’s warmth. He’d always been warm in both body and mind. He was one of those people that people felt the need to flock to and protect. 

Akaya’s eyes widened again, as he contemplated it for a few seconds. “It’s nothing much, senpai.” he dismissed. “I just saw Niou-senpai. He was a zombie and he was eating Marui-senpai.”

Yanagi just lifted an eyebrow. That was a lie, and a fairly blatant lie, at that. Akaya looked a little sheepish and Yanagi just looked at Akaya, until the younger boy suddenly thrust himself forward and buried his face into Yanagi’s shoulder and chest, at an awkward angle. With a slight oof at the impact, Yanagi pulled his arms around Akaya, pulling him closer, so he could comfortably rest on Yanagi’s collarbone;. 

"It was Yukimura-senpai." said Akaya, plaintively. "He was making me torture Sanada-san again. And I could see it and I wanted to stop but there was red everywhere and the devil wouldn’t let me…." There was a slight hitch in Akaya’s breath and Yanagi slowly stroked down the back of Akaya’s head, where the sleeping bag had slumped down, smoothing down the mess of curls over Akaya’s neck. He wasn’t much tired anymore. "You woke me up before I could ki—"

Yanagi nodded, and hushed him softly. “What’s done is done, Akaya.” he said, quietly, to Akaya’s ear, his lips only centimetres away from Akaya’s skin. “I will never blame you for what you did under the demon’s influence and Yukimura’s sly words.”

Akaya just nodded against Yanagi, but there was a certain dejection. “…how were you friends with him, senpai? When he was filled with evil and you’re…you?”

Yanagi’s hands stilled, as the image of a bright-eyed boy, illuminated by the dappled sun, filled his mind. He remembered the day that he had met Yukimura and Sanada so clearly. He remembered being instantly amazed by Yukimura’s eloquence and ideas, and how he had slowly fallen in love with Sanada’s quiet integrity and honour. He remembered all of the things they had done, both moral and not, for each other.

He wondered when it had become too much for him, wondered why it had been that August morning that he’d woken up and seen how twisted Yukimura had become, by years of desire and unbent ambition and lust for power. Why he’d dismissed it then until Yukimura had started to forget human emotion, and why it had never become a priority to dissuade Yukimura until that moment he had watched Yukimura kill Sanada. 

"No one is evil." said Yanagi, quietly. "Even now, Yukimura is not evil. He merely took a path that society does not approve of and that I cannot tolerate. Evil is a human construct, after all." he reminded, his tone bitter and full of ashes, as Sanada’s bloodied face, filled with betrayal and acceptance, swam to the forefront of his mind. 

Akaya pulled away a little. ‘How can you say that, senpai? The devil is evil! And you’re definitely good!” he protested, his green eyes almost betrayed. 

"But even the devil is only a part of you. he is not a real person. Humans are more nuanced than that. All of us have our dark aspects, even me." Yanagi said, softly. How many people had he led to their death, as he twisted them through their lives, trapped by his complicated web of lies? "Remember that. Good and evil are human constructs. A "good" person can do evil things and an "evil" person can do good things, because in the end, we are nuanced. And nobody truly believes that they are the villain of their story." Not until they took a deep, hard look at themselves. 

Akaya buried his face back into Yanagi’s chest, and this time, his cheeks felt wet against Yanagi’s skin. “I can’t believe that Sanada-san could have done anything like what Yukimura-san made me do, senpai, I just can’t.”

Yanagi almost interjected with how he’d seen Sanada strangle a man with his bare hands, because he had insulted Yukimura, but thought against it. In the end, Sanada loved those whom he held close. He would have never dreamt of even hurting a hair on his or Yukimura’s heads. he would have rather died than seen them come to pain. And that was where Yukimura and Sanada had differed. 

Because to Yukimura, his world view and his own survival to see that through, was more than Sanada or Yanagi. “Genchirou loved us.” he said, simply instead. It was neither the lie that Akaya wanted, nor the whole truth, but it was all he had. They held each other for a few moments; the broken pieces of the mess left behind, before Akaya’s grip on him loosened a little and Yanagi noticed that Akaya had cried himself right to sleep, in Yanagi’s arms. He smoothed away Akaya’s hair from his still face and went back to staring out into the darkness. 

He would not be able to sleep now, at least. Not with Yukimura and Sanada haunting his mind.


	29. Halloween Shenanigans

”No.” was Sanada’s first word upon seeing the costumes that Yukimura had brought for the party. In hindsight, it had been a bad idea to let Yukimura choose their costumes, as Yukimura sometimes lost himself in ideas and symbolism, and failed to think of the practicality of many things. Or, in this case, was intentionally out to torment Sanada. 

In his defence, Sanada had been very busy with chasing after kendo competitions and writing papers for his Japanese History class, which had been far more intensive than Sanada had really been expecting. He hadn’t had time to check on what Yukimura was making him wear as a costume. He hadn’t time to spent with Yukimura either, which might just be why he was being forced to wear this. 

Yukimura smiled sweetly, in that look which had made most of Rikkai start running quickly and not stop for another four-hundred laps as he pushed the bundle forward towards Sanada. But Sanada refused to quail. “No.” he insisted again, his cheeks going even redder. “I’m not wearing that. What if my parents find out?”

"You’re twenty and go to college at least thirty miles away from the dojo. Grow up Sanada." said Yukimura, shaking the costume with a little more force. 

"No…" he said, but there was a little less force in his words. 

Yukimura stepped forward and smiled, with seductive grace. “I’ll make it worth your while.” he whispered, his voice low and sultry, with promises and secrets. Sanada could only just resist Yukimura’s smiles. How could he even stand in front of temptation incarnate?

"…fine." he said, snatching the costume up, his face redder than the bundle that Yukimura held in his own hands. "But not one word."

He quickly marched into his bathroom and regarded the white cloth, as he shook it out. It only just reached his knees and looked extremely tight around the middle. The golden halo headband and the roman-style belt didn’t help things. “…do I have to shave my legs?” he asked in slight horror, as a razor and a tube of shaving cream fell out of the bundle. 

…whatever Yukimura had in mind was never going to overcome the humiliation of this. Never.

(X)

"Nice costume, Sanada." snickered Niou, from over a glass of brandy. He was dressed as a slutty nurse and seemed to have absolutely no problem with wearing a girl’s costume, going as far to have stuffed his shirt with fake boobs. 

"Tarundoru." he said, sternly, but it was hard to pull off looking stern and intimidating when he was wearing a girl’s angel costume and was roughly the colour of a too-ripe Fuji apple. His legs felt bare and cold and he was never getting over the humiliation.

"Hey, at least you aren’t Marui." said Niou, with a slightly perverted grin, as he leant forward to accentuate his fake boobs. "His sexy chef’s skirt is practically a belt." Sanada couldn’t help but look and wished he hadn’t, because seeing Marui trying to twerk on the dance-floor with Jackal as a sexy ninja was beyond what his brain could logically take. 

He quickly turned away and from across the bar, he could see Atobe and Oshitari taking pictures of him. He was about to storm over and smash their phones to pieces, when a cool hand touched his bicep in perfect timing. 

"Beer." said Yukimura, handing over a glass, adjusting his demon-horns headband with his elbow, as he held a cocktail in his other. Sanada found himself flush a little, as he got yet another glimpse at Yukimura’s even more scandalous outfit. It was practically a tight leotard all in red, accompanied by red-fishnets and Sanada couldn’t help but think of exactly how Yukimura was going to make it up to him whenever he glanced at him. He could almost forget the disgrace of Oshitari having a picture of him dressed like _this_. 

Yukimura pulled the red leotard up a little, rolling his pale white shoulder, in a movement that emphasized how pretty his collarbones were.

"Have you seen Renji yet? I think he said he was doing sexy scientist, but I’m not sure." asked Yukimura, nudging Sanada’s hip with his own, accidentally, not quite aware of exactly what he was doing to Sanada’s body. Sanada was definitely sweating a little and he was grateful that at least the bottom part of the costume was loose, because otherwise this would be supremely embarassing..

"N-no." said Sanada, as he took a deep sip of beer to try and calm himself down. "Probably late."

Yukimura laughed, lightly. “Or he already found Inui-kun and they’re off in a corner somewhere, hands everywhere, no doubt.” he said, so lightly and Sanada spluttered a little, at the mental image of Yanagi and Inui making out somewhere.

"Seiichi!" he protested, with an annoyed look.

Yukimura’s look matched the spirit of his costume as he turned to Sanada. “Want to go join them? You’ve been looking good enough to eat.” The mischief in his eyes was clear to see, but Sanada wasn’t really up to more teasing.

He placed his drink down on the bar counter. “Why not?” he said, and Yukimura’s eyes widened, before laughing. 

"Impatient." he rebuked, before he reached up to press a kiss to the corner of Sanada’s mouth. "Catch me first, then we’ll see, oh demon slayer and singer of the heavenly choir." he said, leaving Sanada at the bar, before darting off into the dancing crowd. Sanada sighed, glanced back at his drink, before sighing and following Yukimura through the crowd. 

(they are thrown out half an hour later for inappropriate behaviour, but Yukimura just laughs it off)


	30. Study Groups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for fulminata

University entrance exams were less than a month away, which meant almost every high school student in the country was busy revising for the entrance exams, in some quiet nook or corner. Yukimura was rather irritated that he was one of the people who had to be revising. 

"Mother just wants me to enter for the prestige." ranted Yukimura, as he gave up on staring down at the history book, where the words were starting to blur. "So she can boast to all of her designer friends that I got into Todai, but I turned it down because I got tennis sponsorships. Isn’t the latter enough for her? I have a former grand-slam player interested in my play!"

Sanada just rolled his eyes. “Vanity or not, you still need to pass the entrance exam.” he said, as he tapped the page again. “Why was the Diet’s decision to change the ballot voting to a party instead of an individual candidate, significant?”

Yukimura knew the answer. He’d read all of the material and annotated and he’d definitely answered a question like this during their history classes last year. But after the third hour of studying, everything was sort of blurring together.

"I don’t know." he said, with a shrug, as he leant away from the book, shutting his eyes for a moment to get the swimming words of the tiny font, away from his vision.

Sanada snapped the book shut, with a thud, which made Yukimura jump and glare at Sanada. “Break.” said Sanada, shortly as he stood up from their corner close to from the tennis courts, and offered Yukimura a hand up. Yukimura gripped it, squeezing his palm, and they walked away from their books and bags. 

"I can’t believe Renji ditched us to study at Niou’s place." said Yukimura, with a slight laugh, as they headed to the vending machine.

Sanada just shrugged slightly, as they avoided a bunch of giggling first years on the grass. “They’re both aiming for that Maths university in Osaka, aren’t they? It makes sense they would study together. Meanwhile, you me and Yagyuu…”

"All for Todai." finished Yukimura, as he fished around in his pockets for some spare yen coins. Alas, this was his school uniform and not his usual jeans which always had a coin or two to spare. He frowned at the screen of the vending machine, and blinked as a cold drink was pressed against his forehead. Sanada cracked open his juice and Yukimura smiled, as he unscrewed the cap of the iced tea that Sanada had bought for him.

Winding his arm around Sanada’s, he smiled as they made their way back to their spot, sipping their drinks. “So, what I want to know, is why Yagyuu isn’t studying with us?”

Sanada just cracked a smile. “Do you really want to study with him?” he asked, as they took seats back against the cool benches and Yukimura stuck his feet on Sanada’s thighs. 

"Not really. I had to borrow his notes once, and he colourcoded everything. I don’t even know how he reads highlighter yellow." Yukimura said, with a laugh. "Maybe his glasses have superpowers. In which case, I want some, my contacts are only so useful."

Sanada snorted as he leant back. “Or he’s just competitive. Which makes more sense.”

Yukimura shut his eyes, with a slight laugh. “He has reason to be.”

"He may not, if we don’t get back to studying." Sanada said, suddenly, as he straightened a little and Yukimura rolled his eyes.

"Relax Sanada, a five minute break isn’t going to remove your advanced preparation for this exam." said Yukimura, pressing down on Sanada’s lap, with his feet. "Besides, if I read another word of history before finishing this tea, I might just go insane."

Sanada looked a little exasperated. but he leant back against the bench and Yukimura shifted, until he was leant against Sanada’s shoulder, his feet away from Sanada’s lap now. “You’re comfy.” he explained as he slowly drank his tea. 

There was a silence between them, but it was comfortable, as most of their quiet spaces were. “…did you decide which sponsor you were going for?” asked Sanada, quietly and not for the first time, Yukimura wondered what he had been thinking. 

"Borg." said Yukimura, without hesitation. "Before I got his letter, I was going to go with that French coach, who had a high success rate of shooting them into the top 50. But Borg can get me higher and my own effort can make me number one."

Sanada just nodded, with a pensive nod and Yukimura frowned, as he placed the tea aside and stretched a little, to get rid of the cricks in his back. “You’re certain about not taking tennis as a career?”

With a slightly dry smile, Sanada nodded, as he picked up his books again, and sharpened his pencil. “It’s not acceptable as a career. Besides, police work does more for the community.” 

Yukimura just frowned. Sport was something that reformed so many children in impoverished communities, as it gave them something productive to strive towards. Still, changing even Sanada’s mind took an enormous amount of work, but changing the opinions of Sanada’s family was almost impossible. So saying anything against policework would not be received well.

Instead, he just opened his book again and tucked his pencil behind his ear, with a slightly forced smile. “Right, what were you saying about the Diet?”


	31. Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: YukiSanaYana in a post apocalypse AU?

The wound on Yanagi’s face, from their last encounter with the packs of rapid vampires, hadn’t healed yet. Yanagi knew that Sanada was tossing him worried looks, but Yanagi was quite sure that he wasn’t a vampire. If he was, he would have started writhing from the sunlight or keeled over screaming from the painful turning process. It was just a stubborn wound that refused to leave his face. At least it wasn’t openly bleeding anymore.

As they edged over the rabble from the destroyed farmhouses, Yanagi’s eyes scanned the area, carefully. The grass was clear of carcasses and the forest loomed over them, up ahead. It was a thick, tall forest, not one of the open, airy forests of central Japan. Yanagi didn’t like being in an area where it was so difficult to see, but according to the information that Yagyuu’s death had afforded them, what they were looking for was inside this forest. 

"It’s too quiet." supplied Yukimura, his mouth twisting in displeasure, as he brushed back his long hair. "This close to the forest, there should be animals."

"Zombies…?" asked Sanada, as he removed the katana from the sheath on his back, to clutch tightly. 

"Maybe." said Yukimura, with a shrug. "Could be anything that scares off normal animals."

"Zombies, shapeshifters, or just radioactive materials are most likely in this sort of area." murmured Yanagi, as he removed the knives from his thigh holsters, carefully twirling them around his fingers. He’d been better with a bow, but they’d lost his bow last month when they’d also lost Niou. Now he used Niou’s weapons, even if he wasn’t nearly as good a shot as the other boy. 

Yukimura tilted his head, with a slightly incredulous look. Radioactive material was becoming more common as they came closer to the sea, where the old power stations had used to be. But, they were still fairly uncommon to find, as remnants of their previous world. Yanagi still remembered elementary school and learning the names of the best nuclear plants in the world, and being proud of how they were in Japan. “Well then, let’s hope it isn’t radioactivity, then. At least you can kill the others with enough will.”

Sanada exhaled heavily, before the three of them broke cover and ran towards the forest, just waiting for something to attack them. Yanagi hoped that Yukimura was keeping an ear out for trouble; he and Sanada were both still slightly hearing impaired from the small explosion at the old factory, three days ago, while scavenging for food.

They caught the branches of a low hanging tree, as they stowed away their weapons quickly, and pulled themselves up into the trees. Only the fittest survived in this world, and the three of them had always been healthy. Now they were more than that, just so they could survive. Yanagi caught Yukimura’s hands as the other slipped a little and they rested on the mid-level branches, uneasily, scanning the area.

"No shifters…" murmured Yukimura, as Sanada swung over to the branches of the other side of the tree, cautiously. Yanagi morbidly wondered what would happen when they got too heavy and too old to climb into these trees, but he tried to not think about what would happen once they became actual adults. "You’d see them easily."

"No zombies either." Sanada’s voice drifted over from the other side of the tree and Yanagi exchanged grim looks with Yukimura. Radioactivity. What none of them wanted. 

"Well…" Yukimura stopped, worrying at his lip, as his feet bounced on the tree-trunk, anxiously. "Radioactivity won’t immediately kill in small doses. We have to get the stuff fast, then get out of here. Sanada, can you see a path into the centre of the forest?"

Sanada grunted in affirmative and Yanagi just raised an eyebrow, as Yukimura dropped out of the tree, in a swift, graceful leap. His trainers flopped open a little at the sole upon impact, and Yanagi wondered where they’d be able to find new shoes in this area. He’d told Yukimura to take Jackal’s shoes for spares before they’d burnt his body, but Yukimura had refused. 

Yanagi swung down to a few lower branches, and joined Yukimura on the floor, his face injury twinging a little at the sudden changes in momentum. Sanada was last to join them, with a grace that his height and muscle wouldn’t have indicated. “It’s a long walk.” he warned, shaking his hair free of leaves. “We’ll take two days to get there and then two days to get out again.”

Yukimura’s gaze immediately went to Yanagi and Yanagi shrugged helplessly. He didn’t know how much radioactive material was fatal and how long it took. “Marie Curie worked on pure radium with no protection for fourteen years. She was plagued with health concerns once she was exposed, but I don’t think four days will hurt us terribly.” said Yanagi, with a shrug. He really didn’t know. Perhaps Sadaharu would have known, were he still alive. 

Yukimura nodded, grimly. “Then let’s jog. Why rest here longer than we need to?” he asked. Sanada nodded and started jogging instantly and Yanagi nodded, wearily, as he brought up the rear. The amazing part was that they were still alive, around the thousands of deaths around them, and still managed to find enough things to eat and stay healthy. He wondered how it was that they had survived so long, where so many others hadn’t. Then, he mused that Murphy’s Law probably meant that one of them was going to die soon. He couldn’t get too emotionally attached. It only hurt more when they then lost people. 

He still remembered the first death. Marui had made such a horrified face as the vampires had torn through his skin and Yanagi had had to pull Jackal away from the scene forcibly, in order to let their little tensai save everyone else. All seven of them had cried after that first night. But they had kept walking and had stopped crying after Akaya. 

Yukimura’s hand pressed back against Sanada’s chest and Yanagi and Sanada drew to a stop, instantly. Sanada pulled out his katana again. Yukimura’s eyes shone. “I can hear _people_.” he said, with a slightly ecstatic look. 

People? In the middle of this thick forest? Near what was supposed to be a deathtrap for anyone trying to fix their world again? Yanagi shook his head to Yukimura and Yukimura dismissed him, haughtily. “You can’t hear anything, I’m telling you, it’s someone’s voice.”

"We should be careful." warned Sanada, with an tight authority to his voice that rarely surfaced when Yukimura was around. Yukimura, for some reason, glanced up at Sanada, something unreadable passing between them, before he begrudgingly nodded, and the three of them crept towards the voices with weapons drawn. 

Sometimes he envied Yukimura and Sanada their relationship, but then he remembered that he shared something different with each other them. Whatever the three of them had managed to forge, it worked. They had managed to survive longer than the rest of Rikkai. The rest of the world, even. There were very few children alive now.

But, that was a child’s voice. “Akaya…?” breathed Yanagi and Sanada instantly pulled Yanagi back, into a tight hold. “No.” he said, tightly. “Come back to reality, Yukimura, Akaya’s long dead.”

"But zombies can’t talk." said Yukimura, meeting Yanagi’s eyes for confirmation. Yanagi nodded, quickly. "It can’t be Akaya, though, can it?"

Yukimura’s eyes narrowed. “They said that we’d find all sorts of mysteries inside that place. What if they found a way to bring people back to life?” he asked, softly. 

Sanada rolled his eyes. “They also said that we shouldn’t get distracted by these other mysteries. And what purpose would anyone have to bring back Akaya? Why wouldn’t they bring back a samurai, or a famous scientist? Why Akaya, unless it’s a distraction created by our own minds, because we want to see him?” he demanded, furiously, while shaking Yanagi and glaring furiously at Yukimura. 

But they had been talking too long, and the voices came onto them. Yanagi’s heart sank as soon as he saw the bruised and bleeding body, with bright red eyes, in place of the brilliant green.

That was not Akaya.

He broke free of Sanada’s grip, with a sharp shake, and threw a dagger straight at Akaya’s head. It disturbed the frozen horror that had come over everybody, and they started running, to find themselves inside a more advantageous clearing, where Sanada’s katana could properly swing. 

That hadn’t been Akaya, but that hadn’t been a zombie either. “What the fuck is that?” yelled Yukimura, as he and Yanagi swung up into the branches of a lower tree and he took aim with his gun, in an expert crouch. Yanagi steadied him and waited with his knives, wishing that he still had his bow. Sanada held out his katana at the base of the tree, as not-Akaya ran after them. Zombies couldn’t run. What _was_ this?

In one fell swoop, Sanada charged forward at not-Akaya and cut off his head. This didn’t stop the creature from continuing to grip Sanada’s body, like it would have stopped a normal zombie. Yukimura pulled the trigger and clipped not-Akaya’s shoulder. The bullet ripped through the flesh of not-Akaya’s arm, but there was no blood, and this only loosened the thing’s grip on Sanada, rather than disable it.

If you couldn’t kill monsters with a head shot, you burnt them. Simple rules they had devised quickly after coming across the fifth, different type of thing. Yanagi pulled out his matches from his shoe and snapped off a tree branch from above his head. He ran the sparks along his shoe’s heel, to try and get the match to burn. Once it did, he held it to several areas along the branch, hoping that it would catch somewhere. 

Luckily, despite the wood still being damp from its internal sap, the fire caught and Yanagi’s face tightened. He handed the not-burning end to Yukimura, who expertly slung it down to hit not-Akaya, just as Sanada’s struggled managed to turn the thing to face the tree. Not-Akaya started burning and Sanada managed to finally get away, as it burned and silently writhed. It’s detached head screamed, in the same tone of voice as Akaya when he ran headfirst into the wall, and Yanagi clapped his hands over his ears, gritting his teeth tightly. 

He didn’t remove his hands until the scream had completely died away. He couldn’t deal with having killed Akaya for the second time. But their eyes were dry this time, as they hopped out of the tree and watched the last of his remains flicker away, in solemn silence. His head was still there but Yanagi couldn’t bring himself to go over and shut the reddened eyes of the dead Akaya. Maybe he was a coward. but he couldn’t face Akaya like this. 

"We’d better move." said Sanada, quietly, his gaze flickered around, clearly reluctant to touch the head of the not-Akaya, as well. "He can’t be the only thing in here and we don’t want to risk radiation. We don’t need to reduce our lifespans in other ways."

Yukimura nodded, as he stamped out the fire, and the last trails of smoke drifted up towards the tops of the tree. The smell was acrid and made Yanagi’s eyes water, despite himself. “Let’s not get distracted again.” he said. His voice was cold and closed-off, and Yanagi nodded, grimly. 

They had a job to do, in order to make their lives better, and they were not going to stop here, memories awoken or not.


	32. this is where you will live and die: the blood forever on your lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could you write troika, or just Rikkai in general, in a hunger games AU?

The announcement hits them all like a cannon, from where they sit and eat in front of their own TVs, nervously awaiting what is to come. “The winners of the previous Games will be the selection Pool for this year’s Quarter Quell.”

The cheering of the mindless Capitol sponsors drains through the speakers and Yukimura’s grip on her apple is so tight that she cuts through it, leaving only pulp and juice on her lap. 

She does not want to return. 

-

District 2 has not had much luck with the Games in these recent years. Yukimura’s victory eight years ago and Sanada’s victory three years ago are the most recent tributes to have survived. The others are old or tired and Yukimura would not wish them to return to the ring. No matter who is chosen, she will return to the Capitol and foil their game. She meets Sanada’s eye from across the stage, as they wait for the broadcast and knows instantly that he will follow her lead. 

"Nietza Chiffen." calls the vapid Capitol assistant and Yukimura steps forward, her voice strong and loud, before the old lady has to leave her chair. "I volunteer." she said, crisply, and to everyone else, it will look like she is eager for these games, when it has been her sole nightmare for the past eight years. 

"Mori Juzabor—"

"I volunteer as tribute." Sanada says, before the Capitol assistant can even finish, his single eye defiantly facing the crowd, daring any of them to contest his decision. There are small grumbles, but Yukimura and Sanada’s brutal and rapid victories are fresh in the minds of their hometown. Everyone is confident that one of the District 2 Tributes will return once more. 

The broadcast ends with her reaching for Sanada’s hand and them standing firm and tall, with pride, gripping each other tightly. When the camera cuts, they turn away from the people, but Yukimura does not let go of his strong hand. Her scars may not be as visible as Sanada’s missing eye, but she has them yet.

-

The moment that the two of them arrive at the Capitol, they do not sleep as they are supposed to, but escape their complex, to run to the balcony where the Mentors usually go after the death of their tribute, to mourn briefly. As expected, there are a few figures waiting there, and Yukimura runs forward, to throw herself into the arms of Yanagi, who looked smaller than her usual tall height, burdened with tired eyes.

"Sadaharu volunteered instead of Akuto-nii-chan." she says, her voice soft and Yukimura squeezes her middle, reassuringly, careful to avoid the scars along Yanagi’s rib cage. The taller girl won the games the year after Yukimura and they had bonded quickly over their combined experiences. Yanagi admires Yukimura greatly and Yukimura finds herself enamored with Yanagi’s sensible words, so it always works for them. Even if she dislikes the people in Yanagi’s district, she puts up with them reluctantly. Inui is not that bad, anyway.

Marui nods to them, looking resigned and tired, his District 9 jacket draped over his shoulders. “Did you hear? Tezuka got selected from District 7.” he says, his voice bitter. “He won’t be playing by our rules, that’s for sure.”

Tezuka. The most talented tribute of their age. His games had ended in just three days, in a large explosion set off by one of the most elaborate traps ever made, and had survived this catastrophic blast by sheer determination. His fighting is also impeccable and his stoic face makes it difficult to read him. The Capitol finds him an amusing oddity but most other tributes are wary of him. 

Yukimura is not necessarily wary, for she knows that if push comes to shove, she can beat him, but she would rather that he fight with them. Still, it will not happen. His mother’s life depends on the Capitol and his love for family is stronger than any of his other allegiances. He will not fight with them against the Capitol’s games. 

Jackie grimaces slightly. One half of her dark face had once been scarred monstrously, from being caught in a forest fire during her year of victory. The Capitol has managed to graft on new skin, but it looks artificial and hair cannot grow from her forever-damaged follicles. “The child from last year, who won from District 8 by hiding. She is here again. Nobody would volunteer for her.”

Yukimura’s lips purse together, as she pulls away from Yanagi. “Sakuno?” she asks, her mind flickering to the girl who’d worn pink, light fabrics, who’d blushed heavily and had stammered through her speeches. Despite all of that, she had caught the Capitol’s hearts when she had done something daring and against the rules in covering the body of her ally from District 12 in flowers and in her ability to shoot knives like a pro. Keeping her alive is useful… “Find her tomorrow Jackie. Offer her an alliance. Exclude Mizuki, we don’t need him.”

"She’ll be dead weight." says Marui, raising an eyebrow. "You okay with that?"

"She’ll be useful for sponsors. You saw how many people sponsored her last year after she showed her relative skill with knives at the end." Yukimura dismisses. Her opinion is final here. "Who else? Saeki and Fuji from District 4?" She likes Fuji, the woman with deceptively good skills at swimming and water traps. Saeki too, is useful with his upper strength and his strength with a trident. They are older, like Tezuka, but still strong.

"Tezuka will sway Fuji." says Yanagi, shaking her head slightly. "Sadaharu will come with us if I ask him."

"Niou and Yagyuu." says Sanada, speaking up from where he has been looking out over the Capitol’s glimmering lights and flawless streets. "Districts 10 and 5." he says. "They’re unabashedly good at what they do." They are older tributes, Yukimura vaguely remembers hearing about Yagyuu’s victory when she was about five and being impressed by the woman’s ruthlessness. Niou is mysterious, from before her memory developed, but he’s always smiled at her with approval when they pass by each other in the Capitol and she’s liked his dark humour in the past. 

"Talk to them, get them on our side. I want as many people as possible." she says, her face grim, as the cold wind whips across her face. Her nightmares are filled with blood across the white snow and the cannons at night. "I will not let this game happen like this. I will not let them lie and play us because of what that little girl managed to make the Capitol feel.” says Yukimura, crossing her arms across her chest. “I am getting as many of us out alive, no matter what it takes.”

-

She’s forgotten someone important, and she only realizes in the morning as they all wait around behind the screen, for the chariot rides. Dressed in a skin-tight ruffled suit, studded with gems and porting large, gaudy wings, is the Capitol’s summate favourite, Atobe Keigo, At thirty years old, he is as resplendent as he was when he won the games, and he is a major obstacle or stepping stone in her path, depending on how she plays this. 

Yukimura adjusts her toga as she walks up to where Atobe drawls at Sanada and Tezuka, feeling quite confident as a marble statue from the olden times. They have pictures in schoolbooks of old marble statues, and she and Sanada looks like the old images of those masterpieces, especially Sanada who is painted to look like deep rich marble and is half naked, to attract as many sponsors as possible. Still, it is plain, compared to the glitz and glamour of most of the tributes.

"Atobe." she greets, her painted lips curving upwards, slowly. "A pleasure, as ever."

"Yukimura." he says, raking his eyes over her scantily clad, painted figure, looking rather smug. "Your designer doesn’t like you or Sanada this year."

"I don’t need gimmicks to garner attention." says Yukimura, coolly, refusing to rise to his unusually paling taunts. His heart is not into it. "I can do that with my own charisma, wouldn’t you say?" 

"Mmm, can’t you." says Atobe, dismissively, as he turns back to Tezuka.

"Will you stand for this?" asks Yukimura, lowly, as Sanada reached for her hand, his jaw tightening. "Stand for them using us like this? Betraying our trust? This is the ideal time to break free, you know that it is. Sakuno has started it and we can finish this brutality." she appeals, quietly and softly. 

Atobe’s mask cracks, and she sees the generous, and slightly broken man under there. “They have my wife.” he says, quietly. “I cannot. I will fight you and I will do it well. Even if I die, she will live well and away from the Capitol audience’s attention.” He is still the Capitol’s most eligible ‘bachelor’, after all. Yukimura understands love for family and for lovers. She does not like it, but she understands Tezuka and Atobe’s reasons for fighting by the same rules as the Capitol. 

"Hide for as long as you can." says Yukimura softly, as they are ordered to get into the chariots by the officials. "Survive while we make a fuss and get attention. And slip out. Please don’t fight us. I do not wish to kill either of you, but I will if we meet in the arena."

"Like you could do that so easily." says Atobe and Yukimura says nothing;. To defeat Tezuka and Atobe will not be easy. She does not claim that at all. Tezuka’s gaze meets hers deeply and they exchange sorrows, for a brief moment, before a snappy attendant shouts at them for stalling.

Atobe and Tezuka both slip away, back to their chariots and Yukimura clambers up in theirs. Sanada’s hand around hers is strong and reassuring and Yukimura’s brows knit together as the video stream starts and the tributes take their places and watch the familiar video. “What if we don’t gain enough attention, Genichirou?” she asks, softly, her eyes darting behind her to Yanagi and Inui’s chariot, where Yanagi and Inui are fiddling with their costumes, looking nervous as their horse paws the ground. 

"We will." Sanada says, fiercely, as Atobe’s chariot wheels out ahead of them. "Believe in it, Seiko, or we cannot."

Yukimura nods, pursing her lips together, before letting the regal smile touch her face. “Pretend to strangle me.” she says, coolly, as she reaches forward, as if to punch him. His hands close over her neck, in a loose grip, obeying instantly, as their chariot wheels out, and it is difficult to hold the pose of their deaths as the chariot rolls over uneven ground, but they are at their physical peak, now. 

They mimic a statue of their eventual death and the Capitol Audience are hushed as they wheel out. Yukimura’s eyes catch glimpse of the screens and notices that behind them, Yanagi and Inui have mimicked something similar. The Capitol would not approve of this display, but it is too late for them to stop anything. Kurobe’s eyes meet theirs as they make the circle around the Capitol, but Yukimura does not let go of her pose. She will not kill her fellows, not when she knows that the Capitol is close to breaking

-

"Harder." Yanagi commands, as Yukimura aims the javelin at the targets. Her aim is perfect, but her strength has declined over eight years. 

She grunts and throws, and the javelin travels with a huge amount of speed, punching through the target in front of her. Yanagi’s frown is still displeased, as she punches numbers. “Again. It’s faster now.”

Yukimura rolls her eyes, but grabs another javelin and bounces off the walls to avoid the sim’s attacks. Light and lean, she finds this easy to do and her body remembers how to dodge yet. Her game had passed relatively fast but it had still been a week and half in there, and her body remembers the pain and how to avoid death still.

The sims are faster than before, but Yukimura is the fastest. She pants as the simulation blinks out. She has not taken a single hit, and has destroyed at least twenty-five assailants. She has gathered an audience of other tributes, and she tilts her head up, defiantly to meet their gazes. “This is what talent looks like.” she says, coolly. “Join me if you want to live longer.”

The GameMakers are watching from their balcony, so she cannot say anything too controversial, but she can do this, easily. She has startled laughter from some of the GameMakers at her bold words, but she ignores them as she steps out of the sim and hands the javelin to Yanagi. “Your turn.” she says, as she accepts the tablet. 

Yanagi shakes her head, as she picks up the bow instead. “Fastest speed please, Seiko.” she demands, her voice tremulous as she waits for the simulations to arrive. Her arrows are fast and smooth, and she decimates all of them quickly, even if she gains hits to her legs. 

"Real thing, you’d be dead." Yukimura warns Yanagi, lowly, squeezing the taller girl’s hands. Yanagi’s hand lingers around her, and their eyes meet, gently. 

"Perhaps it is better to die this way. I cannot kill you and I will not have you bear the burden of my murder. It is better to die protecting you from something else." says Yanagi, softly and Yukimura squeezes Yanagi’s hands tightly, until she hears a little grinding noise. 

"If you dare do that, I will drag you back from Hell itself and force you to work." she says, fiercely. "We’re all getting out of this, together or not at all."

Yanagi nods, reluctantly and Yukimura throws down Yanagi’s hands with a disgusted look, as she stalks away, over to where Jackie and Sakuno are practising. How is she supposed to have faith when even Yanagi cannot? 

Sakuno’s smile is soft, as she sorts out the plants that will help them survive and the plants that will kill them. This is Yukimura’s favourite station, more than even the fighting, but Yukimura cannot say that to anyone, in any case. Sakuno smiles at Yukimura. “You’re getting us out of here, right?” asks the little girl, lowly. “Like Marui was saying?”

Yukimura never thought herself someone to be swayed by little children’s charms, but Sakuno looks a bit like Yukimura’s little sister, when seeing the brunette in person. Yukimura’s always had a soft spot for her little sister. “Yes.” says Yukimura, as she kneels down to be the same height as the short Sakuno. “We’re going to get out of here, with as many people as possible.”

Sakuno smiles and looks back down to the plants. “Thank you, Yukimura.” she says, quietly. “I’m scared of going back…”

"Aren’t we all?" asks Yukimura, glancing up at Jackie, who only gives a commiserating smile. 

-

The dress she wears for the interview is infinitely prettier than the one she wore for the chariot ride and she looks like a painting’s masterpiece now, as she sits in the spotlight. Hara Tetsuya looks a little regretful to be interviewing her now. “So, Yukimura Seiko, may I call you Seiko?” he asks, softly and Yukimura tinkles with laughter, even if it isn’t particularly funny. 

"Seiko, yes." she says, with a smile. "I think, after eight years with the Capitol, we have grown together."

Hara’s smile is fixed, but he nods as he leans forward. “Tell me, Seiko. Your display on the chariots was enticing. What was it about?”

She could laugh it off. President Kurobe’s face is at the back of the interview hall and his glare is intimidating, but Yukimura has come this far. Her sister will be collateral damage, but her sister is old enough to be drawn in the trials now. Either her sister will die by Capitol’s hands for Yukimura’s attempts to overthrow the Games, or her sister will die in a later game, because of Yukimura’s symbols at the chariot parade.

"In the end, if we follow this to the end, it will be between myself and Genichirou." she says, smoothly, dismissing the other competitors, with a sad smile. Yanagi is good, but if Yanagi is so readily willing to die before having to face the prospect of killing Yukimura and Sanada, she will not last long. "And it is my protest to this fate. I love him. I love my friends, whom I have held in my hands, as the nights of pain haunt me. I love Renge, I love Bunta, I love Jackie. I cannot bear to let them go." It is laying it on a little thick, but Yukimura has nothing left to lose. 

There are sniffs in the audience, and Yukimura presses her hands to her eyes, as if affected by her sorrow. “Love?”

Sanada is after her, as ever, which helps for this. Hopefully he will play along, though they have discussed nothing of the sort. “Marriage. He was planning on proposal this year. It’s only been five years.” she says, darkly, as she looks down. “I don’t want to die here.” she says, looking up directly at the audience, letting a pain touch her voice. “When I first entered the games, I had no hopes or dreams for the future. I would win, and then I would plan, I told myself. But I never expected to return to the arena afterwards. And my hopes are dashed and my future is bleak, for even if I live, it will be without those whom I love.” she said, her voice quiet and like a pindrop in the silence. 

The audience are utterly silent as she presses her hand into her lap and pinches down at his thighs, where it hurts most. “Would you have liked to have helped me plan my wedding?” she asks, feeling tears prick her eyes and pinching harder at her thighs, in order to create more tears. 

The audience erupts into loud squeals and Yukimura looks down, hiding the smirk into her dress. Let the emotional appeals start. 

-

They are heartfelt. Marui’s story about his little brothers reduces many in the audience to tears. Yanagi and Inui’s stories mimic each other, of their siblings and their life, and the nightmares they remember. Jackie waxes poetic about the one man that can accept her with all of her flaws. Sakuno outright has people on their feet as she bursts out crying, talking about her lost love in the arena. Yagyuu and Niou’s stories are crafted to speak about their experiences in the arena and how they are forever scarred and how returning would twist them into unrecognizable monsters, which has people scared, especially with Niou wiping a layer of makeup, to show a darker layer of makeup underneath, like an animal. And Sanada is quiet, saying simply that he would have brought Yukimura the universe to marry her, but now they are to die. Not very attractive to the audience, but it touches Yukimura’s heart. Everyone works hard, all of her allies, new and old. 

But, it is not good enough. They will return to the arena.

Yukimura’s breaths are sporadic as she leans over the Mentor’s balcony. Only Yanagi and Sanada have followed her. “I guess this is it.” she whispers, softly, to all of them. “Once in the arena, we’ll try and destroy the place, depending on what we get. But we have to prepare to die.”

Sanada and Yanagi nod, and they pull each other into a tight hug, their foreheads touching and as much skin with the other as possible. “May the strongest stay standing.” murmurs Yukimura and the other two repeat it, their faces haggard, with the weight of what the next day will bring.


	33. A Female AirCaptain?

The night wind was cold across her face and Yukimura adjusted her scarf across her neck, as she swung down into the dirigible which hung off the edge of her airship. There were two mechanics, chatting there.

"And di’ you hear, the capt’n of this airship’s a bleedin’ woman, ‘ave you ever ‘eard of such a thing?" said one of them, large and burly. Yukimura just raised her eyebrows, feeling a little irritated. As captain of this airship, she did just fine. 

"So are most of the crew." she states, sharply and the two men turned around, looking a little frightful. She glared at them, haughtily, before smiling, slyly, as she properly hopped into the dirigible.

"When d’you boys reckon the ship’ll be ready then?’ she asked, mimicking the accent of most of the landlubbers who hadn’t been raised with a silver spoon in their mouth. Yagyuu and Niou both said that she didn’t sound right, but she could pass off for a weird one. After all, the girl-captain of the Rikkai couldn’t be associated with the Lady Yukimura who’d run away some five years ago.

They looked relieved to have escaped the captain’s wrath., and grinned. “Couple days at best, cap’n. We got this other big ship comin’ in at the same time, ya see.”

Yukimura raised an eyebrows again, and leant forward a little. “You couldn’ happ’n to tell me the name of this ship, could’ja?” She could sort of understand where Niou and Yagyuu were coming from, her accent wasn’t quite as comfortable as the two mechanics. 

"The Seigaku! Anovver big ‘un like this un. We got our work cut out for us, yea?" said one as he adjusted his goggles over his face and started welding again. Yukimura’s displeased frown would have made them cower if they had been looking.

Tezuka. What was he doing here? Wasn’t this out of his normal trade routes? She hopped out of the dirigible again and darted the long climb back up to the deck, to ask Renge exactly what was going on.


	34. manifestation

When Yanagi received the frantic phonecall from Yukimura’s manager, regarding Yukimura’s sudden disappearance from Yukimura’s small suburban house, Yanagi felt little concern. He quietly assured the manager that Yukimura hadn’t died and would mostly be back by tomorrow, all ready to play tennis again. The manager had still sounded frightened when Yanagi had placed the phone down, but she wasn’t his concern.

He sent a quick text to Sanada, telling Sanada to not worry about Yukimura, since he had it sorted, as he slipped on a jacket and found his keys from the overly messy coffee table. Sanada sent him back a curt text, which meant that he was still in class and annoyed by the phonecalls interrupting his comprehension of the lessons.

Chuckling softly at the mental image of the disgruntled Sanada, Yanagi locked his apartment behind him and started strolling down the busy Tokyo streets. 

It wasn’t hard to surmise where Yukimura would be, not after Yanagi had heard the news yesterday. Three teenagers killed in a public lynching in Ghana, after being outed as queer. It had been slightly sobering for Yanagi, to realize that he could have been killed by his community for his own preferences, had he been born in Ghana. If he was outed in Tokyo, he would be given disgusted looks in public, have more trouble finding a job and would probably gain disappointed sighs from his aunt. Lynching was…something beyond even his imagination. But he did live in Tokyo, which meant that he was safe.

For Yukimura, however, it wasn’t so clear-cut and he couldn’t dismiss the problem so easily. As one of the only openly-gay athletes and a LGBTQ ambassador worldwide, this would hit home more personally. Yukimura knew people who’d almost been murdered by their family or community for their chemical responses and had spent a lot of time talking with them. This news would have hit Yukimura hard.

As Yanagi walked into the Botanical Gardens, Yukimura’s favourite place to gather his thoughts peacefully, he could already hear more commotion there than was normal for a weekday. He picked up his pace as he rounded the corner and spotted something beyond even his imagination.

Across the large, central courtyard of the gardens, Yukimura had placed some pot plants around the pace and made, large, sweeping brush strokes across the tiles of the walkway. The entire courtyard was covered in chalk marks, of where he planned things to be placed, and his five supply racks were impressive. Stacked to the brim with plump, colourful blossoms and stacked with every shade of paint under the sun, it was a sight to behold.

Yanagi edged forward, past the small crowd that had gathered around Yukimura’s action, to film his progress or just watch, until Yanagi was at the edge of one of the flower installations, where Yukimura was diligently working away.

Yukimura’s face was narrowed in concentration, his normally smooth and relaxed face furrowed, as he slowly painted around the flower pots. The clothes he wore were old and stained with paint already, a stark contrast to the usually composed Yukimura who was found in every magazine and billboard. And his hair was not long and loose, like his usual hairstyle outside of the courts. Instead, it was pulled back from his face, severely, making his features look sharper and more like they could kill someone.

Yanagi smiled sadly. “Do you need any help, Seiichi?” he asked, catching Yukimura’s attention after Yukimura had finished painting the segment he was working on. Yukimura’s visage didn’t change for a casual observer, but Yanagi knew that Yukimura was surprised to see Yanagi there, by the miniscule change of his eyebrow angle.

“Not really.” said Yukimura, as he stashed away one of his pots of paint and removed another colour, cracking upon the lid of the pot with his fingernails. “Besides, I think it’s more fitting if I do it myself.”

Yanagi felt his own eyebrows rise in response. This was a political statement, then? It suited the slightly more reserved Yukimura that he saw when he looked at the LGBTQ ambassador who’d spoken at very serious events of his experiences with discrimination, but Yukimura, for all of his dismissal of Sanada’s deeply emotional acts of honour, was very driven by honour and pride himself.

Yukimura sat down to start painting another section, and Yanagi found himself a nearby railing to perch on, as he watched Yukimura’s skilled hands go to work in putting the masterpiece together. He could have been an artist if he’d really tried, with the speed and dexterity that he painted, but tennis had always been Yukimura’s goal. He’d never wavered in that much, something that Yanagi, with a hundred different ideas on what he could be, had always admired.

The crowd around them ebbed and flowed as time passed, always torn between gawking blindly or wondering nervously, but no one ever bothered Yukimura, even if their curiosity seemed to be tugging at them urgently. Whether it was because they didn’t wish to disturb Yukimura’s diligent labour or their unconscious detection of the aura of anger that he seemed to emit from his very skin, Yanagi didn’t know, but he surmised that it was probably a mixture of both.

Around midday, Yukimura finally took a break, when the crowd was at its smallest, with just five people gathered around, including Yanagi. The elaborate set-up was only half-finished but it looked poignantly beautiful. He meandered over to Yanagi, with his lunch in hand, and Yanagi wondered whether Yukimura had gotten up very early to prepare for this, or had just not slept last night. He mused that it was probably the latter, especially with the faint circles under Yukimura’s eyes.

Yukimura leant back against the railing, not quite touching Yanagi’s side, but definitely closer than a stranger. “You’re not going to make me go back to practise?” he asked. “I know that Manager-san called you about me.”

“There are more important things. Besides, as a grown man, you can make your own decisions about your priorities.” Yanagi replied, as he watched Yukimura sip at his sachet of orange juice. Evidently, it was the right thing to say in response to Yukimura’s silent challenge. Yukimura’s face was a little softer in the aftermath of Yanagi’s words, and he ran a paint-stained hand through his hair.

“Is anything ever going to change, Renji?” he asked, softly, as his gaze flickered over the flowers swaying in the wind.

The snarky answer rose to Yanagi’s lips, but he firmly suppressed it. Yukimura wasn’t looking for that, right now. “So much has changed from fifty years ago. So much has changed from ten years ago. So much has changed from a year ago, a month ago, even ten seconds ago. The world constantly changes.” he said, instead. “That’s what defines life.

“But the same broad themes persist.” murmured Yukimura. “Death, Love, Hate, Intolerance, Persecution. For all we change superficially, the same things repeat themselves.”

Yanagi’s gaze flickered to Yukimura’s face, which was blank not from conscious suppression, but from the vague state he found himself in. It was a little startling to see Yukimura doubting his cause, but even the greatest had moment of self-doubt. “Didn’t you already know that?”

Yukimura made a bitter expression, as he took a sip from his juice. “I did. But hope makes a fool out of us all.”

“Will you give up then? Forget about change?” asked Yanagi, dryly, as he raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t anything like the Yukimura he knew.

Yukimura scoffed, slightly, in disparagement of Yanagi’s words, as he finished the carton and crushed it softly, in the same way he’d always done since middle school. “Don’t you ever get tired, though?” he asked, as he propped his arms on the railing, brushing against Yanagi’s own hands. “Tired of seeing nothing happen?”

“I do not fight as ardently as you do. And I have accepted the world as inherently flawed already.” said Yanagi, softly. “There is little that someone in my position can do, anyway. You have more power than me and I think, that if you give up, nobody would blame you.”

“I’m not giving up.” said Yukimura, rolling his eyes. “Does this look like giving up to you? I’m just…tired.” He broke off a little in his words and shivered as the wind struck him. Yukimura’s gaze flickered to Yanagi’s feet, and then moved back up. There was a long pause between them, but Yanagi didn’t say anything, letting Yukimura gather his thoughts properly. He looked conflicted and angry and concerned, and it was one of the most open that Yanagi had ever seen Yukimura, since Yukimura’s stay in hospital. “I would never forgive myself if I gave up. I’m fighting now for the people who look up to me. I just wonder…is it worth it? Are my efforts worth it? Am I even making a difference, or am I just spewing empty words?”

Yanagi didn’t know what to say to that. “You are putting your blood, sweat and tears into this. Anyone can see that. And if change does not happen, nobody can say that it wasn’t for lack of trying.” Yanagi said, firmly.

Yukimura shot Yanagi a dry smile, as he straightened up and turned to face Yanagi. “Do or do not, Renji, there is no try.” he said, with a slight shrug, as he walked back to his paints. Yanagi felt distinctly like he’d just given Yukimura the wrong answer to his silent question, and frowned as Yukimura resumed his work.

The painting was breathtaking. There was no other way to describe it, not really, because Yanagi wasn’t sure he could put it into enough words. And he couldn’t even see how it must have looked from above, only the little details that Yukimura was placing into every swirl of the painting and every adornment of every flower.

He wondered whether the airplanes could see this as they passed over the Botanical Gardens, but mused that it was probably a little too small for that, considering the altitudes at which flights went, even on their landing routes. The crowd came and went, came and went, but Yanagi remained, watching every piece come together. He’d missed three lectures and two study periods, but this was more important, wasn’t it? That was the whole point.

As the work went on, Yanagi thought he could understand where Yukimura’s emotions for the painting were coming from. It was an idea of sacrifice of penance, to feel even an iota of the pain that they experienced. It was the idea of showing the light, slowly being corrupted by the dark that engulfed it. Yanagi’s eyes softened a little as the light started turning more and more orange and Yukimura drew the last lines of the painting together.

Yukimura knelt down by the last section for a long time, his head bowed and Yanagi finally moved from his position at the railing, to place his hand on Yukimura’s shoulder. Guilt. That was what he felt from this painting, the most. “You couldn’t have prevented their deaths, Seiichi.” Yanagi said softly. “Feeling guilty is irrational.”

“It’s not guilt.” said Yukimura, his voice hoarse. “It’s my sorrow. It’s my regret that this isn’t an isolated incident. This is my admittance of my privilege. This is my determination to do better in the future.” Yanagi thought that despite the content of his words, his tone revealed something that really was closer to guilt.

Yanagi squeezed his shoulder, softly, as he glanced down at the slowly drying paint and the peeling paint at the nape of Yukimura’s neck, underneath his tangled hair. It was red verging on brown and looked altogether too much like blood for Yanagi’s comfort. “Your guilt will not bring them back to life. Neither will your sorrow. So, you have to get up and keep speaking.”

Yukimura straightened suddenly, shaking his head to move the hair from his face. He looked very weary. “The flowers are placed in strategic places so that when they die, it will add to the image.” explained the tennis player, as he started to walk towards his barren racks, rid of flowers, and left with empty cans of paint. “I asked the Gardens to take pictures of the deterioration from their roof and mail them to me. You know how to use photoshop, right? Help me create a gif of them.”

He looked tired and his voice was huskier than usual, but his orders were crisp and direct, as ever. Yanagi nodded, silently, as he helped Yukimura roll the racks away from the art-piece, and towards the main Botanical Gardens building. Yukimura walked up to the front desk, seemed to be thanking them profusely, before he left the racks there and stalked out.

Yanagi walked his retreating back, and the slight hunch in his shoulders from the cold and Yanagi shook his head a little resignedly, as he shrugged off his jacket and followed Yukimura. Draping the jacket over Yukimura’s shoulders in the same way he usually wore it, Yanagi offered him a slightly hopeful smile. “Come have dinner with me.” he said, easily. “You can shower at my place too and won’t have to worry about cooking.”

Yukimura’s face had lost the open confusion from earlier in the day, and he just looked neutral at the offer, nodding. Yanagi’s mouth twitched a little in concern, as they walked back to Yanagi’s apartment in the cold. As they drew closer to the university apartments, Yukimura’s hand closed around Yanagi’s and squeezed tightly, and he stepped a little closer to Yanagi to lean his head on Yanagi’s sloping shoulder.

Yanagi soothingly caressed his thumb over Yukimura’s paint-chipped hand, as they climbed the stairs and Yukimura offered him a slight smile as he unlocked the door. Yanagi returned it and shut the door behind him.


	35. spattered blood

Loading, loading…

With an impatient sigh, Niou rolled his eyes. He hated the fact that battles took so long to load, but at least it was worth it: the graphics were always better inside a battle and once he was in the battle server, there was no lagging whatsoever. Niou grinned, menacingly as the server finally loaded and was about dive for the monster’s legs when everything suddenly went black and the sounds of error beeping filled his ears.

With a groan, Niou opened his eyes and pulled off his VR helmet, shaking out his chemically abused white hair, as he sat up in his bed. Next to him, fiddling with Niou’s VR connection, was Yanagi, whose face was dripping in blood and who looked rather pale.

“You’re up.” said Yanagi, evenly, seeming to ignore the fact that he looked like he’d come out of a horror movie. “Had you started fighting yet?” he demanded, his voice colder than ever.

“No, not yet.” said Niou, with a slight frown. “You pulled me out before I could. What the heck, dataman?”

Yanagi exhaled, looking relieved, as he put down the wifi connector. “And you had no injuries in the regular server?”

Niou shook his head wordlessly, as he swung out of his bed and placed a hand to Yanagi’s face. That was real blood, he could smell the tang of iron and the congealing platelets. “What the hell is going on, YanaRen?” he asked, staring at Yanagi in confusion.

“Something’s going wrong. Any injuries from the servers are transferring to real life and people are being trapped inside their servers.” said Yanagi grimly, as he strode away from Niou and his grasp, back out of Niou’s room. “Sadaharu and I managed to escape just as it started happening. He logged out to get a drink after we’d had a duel and couldn’t see when he woke up and could only smell blood. I’d blinded him in the battle.” he offered the information, quickly and efficiently, with none of his usual obfuscation. This was serious, then.

Niou pulled on his jacket from the living room couch. “So what, people are getting injured by their headsets?”

“That doesn’t make sense, the headset has no sharp areas.” said Yanagi, with displeasure, as he made his way towards Niou’s front door. “No blood anywhere. Besides, when I sent Genichirou a message to quit as I was quitting, he had an injury on his leg and that transferred over, so it cannot be the headset.”

That was entirely terrifying. “What the fuck?” asked Niou, blinking slightly to try and wake up his brain properly. “Phantom pains are a thing, when we get hurt in the game, bodies can sometimes feel the pain from the injury in real life, yeah, but transferred injuries makes no fucking sense. It’s not psychological!” he said, as he tugged at his rattail.

Yanagi unlocked Niou’s door. “Exactly. Figure something out, we need to get everybody out, asap. Mukahi’s two cities across, I’m going to get him ou—”

Niou caught Yanagi’s wrist and tugged, quite sharply. “Ah, not so fast, dataman. Your wounds are like dripping with blood. It’s a miracle you got all the way across town looking like that without getting stopped for murder. Let me clean you up.” he said, as he walked over to his kitchen, not letting go of Yanagi’s wrist, as he reached up on his tiptoes to grab the first aid kit from above the fridge.

“I haven’t got ti—”

“Make time, or else they’re going to get infected.” interrupted Niou, as he pulled out the bottle of ethanol and some cotton swabs from the kit and pulled Yanagi back to the couch. “I’m not Yagyuu, but I’m fucking sure that you’ll die, if wounds like this get infected. If you die, who’s going to figure this out, huh?”

He pushed Yanagi down on the sofa and straddled his lap to make him stay. He wasn’t much heavier than the skinny data lord, but he was stubborn when he wanted to be and wouldn’t move if Yanagi tried to get up. Yanagi sighed, looking a little resigned to it. “Let me get my phone, Genichirou said he’s on his way to get Seiichi. Seiichi won’t be able to get himself out and Genichirou needs instructions.”

“Jackal’s in the same city as Marui, right?” asked Niou, as he poured some ethanol onto cotton and shifted slightly, so Yanagi could pull out his phone and put it into hologram mode.

“Marui’s driving over to Jackal’s place, yes. Luckily Marui hadn’t even logged on yet, so no injuries for him and he said he’ll grab Jackal out. Jackal’s stuck, I was messaging him on my way here, and he can’t leave his battle.” Yanagi explained, his face contorting a little as Niou dabbed against Yanagi’s wounds with his cotton swab. The blood soaked through it instantly and Niou decided that he needed a change of plan.

Wet towel first, to get rid of the blood, then he’d disinfect the wounds. Niou poked Yanagi’s nose. “Stay here.” he said, sternly, as he swung off Yanagi’s bony thighs and padded over to his messy storage closet. Luckily there was a stack of clean towels that his younger brother had left when he’d last visited, and Niou pulled those out, and soaked them in water from the bathroom, before coming back out. Yanagi was already deeply in conversation with someone, his earpiece in.

Did he even care about the fact that blood was dripping down his face? Wasn’t it uncomfortable?

“His apartment’s the third floor. Yes, the last one to the right. His spare key’s buried underneath the primrose- yes that’s the white flower. Don’t worry about destroying the flowers, Genichirou, it’s his life here!” Ah, he was talking to Sanada about Yukimura’s house. Niou took his place on Yanagi’s thighs again. scooting a little closer, so it wasn’t so uncomfortable on his backside, before starting to dab at Yanagi’s face.

“Tell him he’s an idiot.” said Niou, with a smirk and Yanagi’s eyebrows pulled together in displeasure. “He can hear you loud and clear, Niou.” said Yanagi, as he tilted his head and adjusted his earpiece. Had Sanada been shouting? Probably.

Niou just grinned. “Puri~” he said, as he started to get away the blood, Yanagi’s skin was supremely pasty pale underneath all of the red. Blood loss had caused that, didn’t it? His grin faded a little as Yanagi continued to command Sanada.

“Yes, he’s in the bedroom. You have to be careful when you get to the VR connector, he’s in deeper than most since he hasn’t left in years. Yes, don’t disturb the IV, otherwise he’ll lose his sustenance. He’s weak in real life. It’s the black wire that doesn’t look like liquid that’s plugged to his headset. Don’t pull it out from the headset, pull it out from the wall. Yes, now toggle quickly. There are four red lights, just keep tapping them until they turn green.”

Yanagi cut off talking as Niou brushed over the corner of his right eye with his cotton swab and winced. “Keep still dataman, Or I’ll get alcohol in your eyes.” whispered Niou, with a slightly amused smirk. Yanagi glared at him, but it wasn’t too scary with one eyes starting to swell up. Inui had done a number on Yanagi, hadn’t he? Yanagi had obviously won if Inui was blinded….but still, Inui was getting better and better if he’d manage to damage one of the Three Demons of Rikkai.

“Yes, sorry, no, pull his helmet off now, check if he’s okay. He can’t do it onehanded.” Yanagi said, holding as still a face as he could manage as Niou probed at his wounds. Without the blood everywhere, his wounds didn’t seem quite so awful. They were numerous and he would definitely have permanent scars from where the sword had dug into his skin, but he had been immensely lucky. Inui’s marks hadn’t hit any of Yanagi’s critical points, just across the middle of Yanagi’s nose and around Yanagi’s eyes and cheeks.

It was really surreal to see things like this in real life, where he could smell the blood and feel the squelching against his fingers. It was desensitised inside the virtual world, because they could heal from death with enough points behind their back and wounds were just superficial wounds that caused a little pain and a little more risk to the whole game. Heck, when Niou had been angry with Yagyuu one day, he’d hacked Yagyuu to pieces, with little remorse, because he’d known that Yagyuu would get up again.

But real life fighting…it had been a long time since Niou had done that. Back in high school, when he’d been going through the delinquent phase and worried his parents. And even then, the most he’d gotten were bruises and scratches.

But this was different. Yanagi’s face relaxed happily and he smiled, widely and Niou knew that Yukimura had to be alive and unhurt. “Good, yes, ask Seiichi if he’s okay?” There was a long pause where Yanagi’s smile only got wider, until he winced and pulled back, as the pain reached his cheeks. “Okay, Tezuka’s on the fifth floor. Seiichi has his keys. Go wake him up and tell Tezuka to go and find Atobe and Koishikawa. I- I can’t do it myself. Yes, don’t worry, it’s some flesh wounds, not as bad as Sadaharu.” Yanagi rolled his single eye and Niou just raised an eyebrow at Yanagi, as he put away the alcohol and reached for the bandages. “Yes, I’ll take rest, I’m staying with Niou so I’ll be fine. Yes. I understand, bye.”

Niou frowned at Yanagi’s forehead, and the sluggishly bleeding wounds across his forehead. He untied his rattail, and tied up Yanagi’s fringe from his wounds. “Alright hold on.” he said, as he sat up and ran to his kitchen to grab some eggs. Yagyuu had always used that for Niou’s stupid headwounds, back when they’d lived with each other through high school, before Yagyuu had got that job offer in Ameri—shit. Yagyuu.

Niou cracked the egg against the bowl with a little too much force, and ran back to Yanagi, with the shell halves “Master.” he said, with none of his sarcasm now. “What about Yagyuu? Aka-brat has those kids from Shitenhouji and Hyotei, but Yagyuu’s all alone.” he asked, his face concerned.

“I don’t know.” said Yanagi, sounding apologetic. “I don’t know anyone close to Yagyuu who could go and wake him up…”

Niou shut his eyes tightly, trying to hope with all of his might that Yagyuu wasn’t logged in. It was unlikely, he and Yagyuu had both loved the Game and it was night-time in America when Yagyuu usually logged on…. His breath was a little shaky as he took a seat next to Yanagi and peeled out the skin from the inside of the egg, to place over Yanagi’s deepest wounds.

Yanagi looked a little interested in what Niou was doing. “You really know how to do this.”

“Yagyuu’s a fucking med student. I impersonated him through all of high school and most of uni. I had to know some shit.” said Niou, as he patted the membrane into place on Yanagi’s forehead. “Alright, one of your wounds needs stitches, so take some painkillers, and I’ll bandage the other ones, so the painkiller has time to kick in.”

He was usually impassive, but Yanagi’s body language was clearly quite reluctant to let Niou and a needle anywhere near his skin. “Relax, I’ve done this before.” said Niou, easily. “I pierced my own ear, geez.”

“Piercing and stitches are rather different…” said Yanagi, with a nervous glance at the needle flashing inside the first aid kit.

Niou peeled apart a gauze strip and pasted it to Yanagi’s face, with just his thumb. “Now, do you want a dinosaur plaster or one with hello kitty?” he asked, ignoring Yanagi’s words, and just grinning, widely.

Yanagi gave him a worried look. “I’m sorry about Yagyuu….”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s already dead, he’s stronger than that.” said Niou, quietly and fiercely, before he peeled open the dinosaur plaster and smoothed it over Yanagi’s eyebrow, with a slightly forced smile. “Besides, he might have already got the news from somebody…”

Yanagi didn’t look too convinced and Niou scowled a little down at the box of bandages. He couldn’t just do nothing. Not for Yagyuu, who might as well be his twin. “Hold on.” He pulled out his own phone. “Record message.” he commanded at the phone. “Yagyuu, you fucking bastard, wake the fuck up. The game’s out to kill us in real life. You heard me fucker, get the fuck up. If you die before I do, I’ll get Yukimura-buchou to bring you back from hell just to strangle you.” He breathed heavily, as he stopped the recording and commanded his phone to “Play on speaker phone, maximum volume repeatedly, unless he turns it off manually with his fingerprints.”

With that, he threw his phone in the direction of his coffee table and went back to placing bandages on Yanagi’s face, his hands just as steady as before, despite feeling angry and worried. “You never answered my question. Hello kitty or Dinosaurs?” he asked and Yanagi’s mouth was downturned at the edges.

“Dinosaurs, you guessed right.” he said, his working eye not leaving Niou’s face, with concern lining his every pore.

“Ah, you look like you’re attending someone’s funeral.” said Niou, as he pressed his fingers to the corners of Yanagi’s mouth and pushed up. “Smile a bit. Or at least, look normal. What are your theories for this, anyway? You always have some.”

Yanagi shrugged, and winced a little at the pain, not smiling. Niou frowned, was he hurt somewhere else? Just how intense had this fight with Inui been, anyway? “I think it might be that our body is taking phantom pain to a new level.” said Yanagi, carefully. “Our cells have the ability to damage themselves and die. That’s called apoptosis, you’ve probably heard of it.”

He’d attended some bio lessons, he knew what apoptosis was. “Yeah, but would apoptosis cause this much blood and damage? These look like gashes, not terminated, automatic death. This is necrosis, for sure.” said Niou, as he poked one of Yanagi’s smaller cuts, ignoring a weary sigh from Yanagi at his action. 

“That’s why I said I don’t know. I’m 100% at a loss. Unless there’s some new data from somebody else, I can’t speculate beyond this.” said Yanagi. “I think…you are right. Sadaharu’s wounds can’t be something caused by apoptosis.”

He looked intensely guilty and Niou wondered how he’d feel, if the time where he’d sliced Yagyuu into tiny pieces had been real. Just thinking about made his heart hurt. “You’re an idiot, really.” said Niou, flicking Yanagi’s forehead that wasn’t injured. “Guilty feelings won’t bring his eyesight back and it wasn’t even your fault in the first place.” Everyone fought hard against rival syndicates and Yanagi hadn’t been prescient of an event like this. It didn’t make sense for Yanagi to blame himself.

The data master just looked away from Niou’s eyes, and Niou pushed down on Yanagi’s thighs. “YanaRen. If you don’t stop angsting, I will paste this hello kitty plaster straight on your dick.” he said, lightly.

Yanagi’s eyes flickered up to look at Niou and Niou just quirked his eyebrows at Yanagi’s cautious expression. He could tell what Yanagi was thinking: was it a genuine threat or something that Niou was making up? Hell, even Niou wasn’t sure, so he wondered what Yanagi was going to do.

Finally, Yanagi let out a small breath and nodded. “Sadaharu’s blindness is not my fault.” It didn’t sound very sincere, but he seemed to be a little more amused, so Niou let it slide, to continue with the rest of Yanagi’s patching up. Niou lit a match and placed the tip of the needle in the fire. Yanagi’s eyes centred on the needle and he gritted his teeth. 

“Just close your eyes.” said Niou, rolling his eyes. “You won’t feel it, the painkillers ought to have kicked in by now.”

Yanagi tossed Niou a slightly concerned expression, but he shut his eyes entirely, without peeking. Huh. Even Yagyuu didn’t do this without extreme duress. Niou leant forward to peck Yanagi quickly on the lips, mischievously, before starting the stitches, relishing in Yanagi’s slightly pleased expression turning to extreme pain, with amusement.

“Don’t worry, I’ll kiss it better once I’m done.” he teased and Yanagi smirked briefly, before wincing again. Yanagi still hadn’t opened his eyes. Dataman really was weird.


	36. HBD Niou~

It was the little heists that Niou liked the best; the ones that were so hit-and-miss that sometimes the target got a glimpse of you and thought that maybe they were going insane or that they were being pranked by a friend, until they arrived back at their workplace or home and found it missing things. 

The ones where he was swinging in and out of apartments quickly, or the ones were he was perching on high-rise windowsills, fiddling with his lockpicks before he fell off entirely, or even the ones where the people were still inside his targeting, either sleeping or fucking. Those were the jobs where Niou felt most alive, the most content, with his blood running through his veins quickly and his heart pounding in his ears.

And maybe there was more risk inside smaller crime, more chance of being caught and tried too harshly, but that was what distinguished you as the best: the fact that you never got caught, no matter how audacious the crime. That was what made the best criminal.

He’d never liked the cold impartiality of corporate crime or political crime, though, despite Yukimura and Yanagi’s fascination with the larger crime activities they pulled off. He always felt too detached, too slick when cheating CEOs and intimidating police heads or bribing politicians. There was no excitement, and sure, when they pulled it off and got the money, it always was nice to have a huge wad of money to spend, but it made Niou more uneasy than smaller crime.

Especially with the people they dealt with and exactly how much money they had.

”Are we done?” asked Niou, as he tugged at his tie, resenting the press of the starched collar against his neck. He’d been able to pretend to be a perfect priss while speaking with Atobe and his closest associates, but there was only so much acting you could do, before it got tiring. Yanagi, however, looked pristine in his own suit, as he carried the unassuming briefcase with their payment in it toward their homebase, with little concern for the fit of the suit against his lanky figure. 

"We’re done." confirmed Yanagi, with a slightly amused look, as he reached into his pocket easily, and tossed Niou a lighter. Niou, who had been in the process of searching for a lighter, in his too-small pockets, paused and grinned, wryly. Yanagi was annoying like that. 

"See you later, Dataman." he said, raising a hand casually, as he ripped off his tie and tied it around his hand loosely, and unbuttoned the top buttons, relaxing a little at the freedom to breathe. Yanagi just murmured something inaudible as he entered the doors and Niou slunk around the corner to find himself in the alley. 

It stunk something funny. Had something died here? Niou pulled a face, made his way towards the rackety metal staircase near the back of their place, and pulled himself up, ignoring the worrisome creaking and the slight give of the metal under his polished shoes. With a slight grunt, he pushed himself onto the roof of their small building. The smell was absent and Niou happily collapsed against the flat concrete, with a slight yawn. Yukimura’s plants filled the roof with a pleasant scent, as they stretched up to touch the sun. It was peaceful. 

He pulled the acquired papers out of his inside pocket with a sigh, as he looked over them. In the process of robbing Atobe’s rival company for him, Niou had managed to earn all of the official government records about him, the ones that Yanagi hadn’t been able to access and destroy. Held in his hand was the last existing documentation about his existence. 

God, he looked so young in the latest picture the government had. What, had that been from middle school? His hair had been dyed white then, when he’d been less worried about getting caught, and had just been into minor acts of vandalism, anyway. It didn’t do to have white hair anymore, as much as Niou missed the look against his pale skin. Too easy to be recognized or to get caught with shocking hair like that. 

He flicked through the papers, pausing a little at his birth record, with his mother’s signature and the scrawled record of the kanji that made up his name. He traced a finger over one of the letter, feeling the indented texture of the paper against his skin. He wasn’t usually so sentimental, god. It had to go, like the rest of his stuff had already been deleted. It was too dangerous if he wanted to go anywhere in this job. 

But his fingers just rubbed over the button on the lighter, as he absently tossed the lighter up and down in his left hand. 

"Niou-kun?" asked a voice from behind him and Niou whirled around to catch a glimpse of Yagyuu, who looked slightly tired as he pulled himself up. His voice had sounded a little surprised to see him there, but not by much. His white doctor’s coat was wrapped around his waist and his hair was a little messy. 

"Yags." greeted Niou, easily, as he folded the papers easily and shoved them into his pocket, but not before Yagyuu had caught glimpse of the contents of them. 

"You should burn those now." he said, quietly, as he joined Niou, taking a seat near the edge of the roof, folding his legs neatly into a crosslegged pose. "They’re dangerous in our career."

"Ya think I don’t know that?" asked Niou, with a dry laugh, as he tipped his head back. "I’ll do it later, when it’s not gonna pollute boss’s flowers."

Yagyuu adjusted his glasses and gave Niou a cool look, appraising and slightly disapproving. Yagyuu had always been great at cutting through Niou’s bullshit, but most everyone here were. He didn’t need to say anything for the accusation to bury itself deep and Niou just stuck his middle finger up at him.

"Like you ain’t got secrets." he said, harshly. 

"My secrets protect me and my family, not endanger them." said Yagyuu stiffly, before reaching out one of his callused hands. "If you can’t do it yourself, I’ll do it for you."

"Matyr Yagyuu, so willing to take on everyone’s burdens." mocked Niou, easily, but it wasn’t cutting, not like usual. 

His eyes narrowed behind his frosted lenses and he gave Niou another one of those searching looks. Honestly, with looks like that, Niou wondered whether he was trying to see straight through Niou. He tossed Yagyuu a cheeky grin and Yagyuu gave him an exasperated look. It only made Niou’s grin get bigger. He liked having some secrets, even from Yagyuu, who was a close friend. 

Yagyuu held out a hand for the papers, and Niou shook his head. “Got a smoke?” he asked, easily.

Yagyuu gave him a slightly suspicious look. “You don’t smoke.” he said, looking rather bemused. 

Niou liked seeing Yagyuu so thrown off. “I’m curious what you find so good about it. And you know, wouldn’t want to waste a perfectly good lighter.”

"You could burn your papers." said Yagyuu, coolly.

"And you could pass me a smoke. That’s why you came up here, anyway, didn’t you?" retorted Niou, easily, crooking his finger with a rakish grin. Yagyuu removed a packet from his pocket, pulled out a cigarette and deposited the packet into Niou’s lap with a little force. 

Niou pulled a stick out, and tossed the lighter to Yagyuu, as he played the stick through his fingers. Cancer stick was one of the nicer things he’d heard his father describe these things. but when had he ever cared about what his father thought, really? As Yagyuu cupped his hand to his face and lit the cigarette, Niou pulled a slight face. He didn’t know how to do this. 

"Light me up?" he asked, as he propped the cigarette stick in his mouth and moved closer to Yagyuu. He expected the lighter to collide with his head and to be told to do it himself, but instead, Yagyuu leant forward, holding Niou’s shoulder still as he touched their cancer sticks together and Niou’s slowly set on fire. It was more intimate than Niou had really been expecting and it threw him off a little, as Yagyuu let go and pulled the cigarette from his own mouth, to exhale out into the blue sky. 

Bastard.

"Exhale it, don’t inhale anything." Yagyuu advised, and Niou followed, though he still found himself mildly coughing. Ah, that tasted bad. He didn’t understand the appeal. Then again, he’d never understood caffeine appeal until he and Yanagi had been working for 72 hours straight. Maybe it was something that grew on you. 

"This life ever grate on you?" asked Niou, as he blew out some smoke, like in the movies.

Yagyuu turned to him. “You want to quit?” he asked, eyebrows raised and Niou remembered sharply that Yagyuu had never known anything other than this, Yanagi had recruited him straight out of uni, from their shared forensics classes. 

"Nah, ‘s all I know." he said, easily. How could he go back to a normal life after this? After being the best and working with the best? Nah, that would be asking to get caught by his odd mannerisms compared to normal people. "Not that. It’s just cold, this job. No life to it. No flare."

"Isn’t that the point?" asked Yagyuu, after a pause to blow out a smoke ring, something unusually frivolous for someone who was so serious under most regards. "So you don’t get caught."

"The point’s to do it so everyone knows exactly who did it, but they have no proof to convict you with and they have no way to charge you." said Niou, roughly. He knew that it wasn’t sensible to do that, not now when lawyers were able to catch you and convict you easy. But still. A part of him yearned for the easier heists. He rarely got to do anything like that anymore. 

"Then tell Yukimura." said Yagyuu. "The man’s nothing but stylish." he said, dryly and Niou snorted. He talked with Yukimura about a variety of matters, but he was never going to presume to tell Yukimura anything about how to conduct a crime. That was like asking to be stuck on the worst parts of the job. 

"Whatever." said Niou, as he flopped down onto his stomach, giving up on the cigarette. With a slight grunt at the change in position, he stubbed the cigarette on the floor and watched the last of the smoke dissipate up until the air. Then, he pulled out the crumpled papers from his pocket, and passed them to Yagyuu.

"Burn ‘em." he said, coolly, shaking out his too perfect hair. He needed to redye it soon, black really didn’t suit him. 

Yagyuu didn’t say a word, as he picked up the lighter from his lap and torched the ends of the documents. They watched together in silence as the paper blackened and dissipated into the air, with only the smell of ashes left in the air as a trace that it had ever existed. Niou shut his eyes and breathed out. Done. He was here forever, now. No backing out. 

"It said on the sheet that it was your birthday." said Yagyuu, softly, as he placed the lighter on the ground next to Niou. "Happy Birthday, Niou-kun." he said, adjusting his glasses, as he got up and put his coat back on, properly. With a nod, he left the roof again and Niou glanced back up at the blue sky. 

Ha. So it was. Niou’s eyes shut as he leant back instead, and shut his eyes. Someone would come and get him if someone important was happening.


	37. survival is only easy for a select few

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to chapter 32.

The countdown starts as Yukimura’s capsule goes up towards wherever she is supposed to be, and she waves goodbye to her designer, who had dressed her in clothes that are slightly worrying. She is covered in some thick, metallic fabric and it is light and airy underneath. A little cold, if Yukimura was honest. 

As the capsule pulls up, she groans, instantly. There are in an arena like a volcano. There are at least four volcanos dotting the immediate vicinity and there are hills of sand, and hulking rocks and small, tiny trees, that look desolate near the bottoms of the active volcanoes. The suit makes more sense now. 

The Cornucopia is in the centre of the ring that they have assembled the tributes in. There is lava along the floor, little trickles of it, and Yukimura swear, softly, under her breath. That will burn her feet or the rest of her body if she ever trips. She can’t see Sanada and Yanagi, so she assumes that they are at the other side of the Cornucopia. Next to her is Inui, and further away, she can see Jackie and Sakuno separated by someone irrelevant. Niou, Marui and Yagyuu are further away yet, but it is easy to spot the pink and white hairstyles against the red and brown landscape that surrounds them. 

By the time that she has taken stock of her surroundings, the countdown is already at five, and Yukimura kneels down, into a sprinting crouch. As soon as the countdown strikes zero, she sprints off, ignoring the burning pains against her weak shoes, Inui flanking her side. She is faster than him and faster than most of the tributes, so she knows that she will be first to reach the Cornucopia, if only by a few seconds. But every second counts, so Yukimura trains her eyes on the stack of things gathered at the base of the golden horn. She spots a bow for Renji and a huge broadsword for Sanada, and a trident for Saeki. She cannot see Saeki on this side of the Cornucopia and decides to use that as her own weapon for this round, if only to keep it from Saeki’s hands. She cannot see her usual javelin and hopes that Sanada will pick it up for her before someone else can. 

She arrives, grabs the sword, and throw it back at Inui without thinking. He uses a smaller sword than that, but she needs someone to carry it while she fights off people. She grabs Yanagi’s bows and arrows and slings them over her shoulder, before picking up the trident and stabbing someone irrelevant quickly, over one of the largest backpacks there. She slings that onto her back as well, despite it slowing her down. She throws the trident at someone else, skewering them straight through . The blood squelches louder than the lava at her feet, but she cannot afford to dwell on this too long. 

Inui has stabbed someone else, and she can see Jackal and Sakuno grabbing some things, protected by Yagyuu’s knives. It is pure adrenaline for now, and Yukimura needs to survive this and make sure that her career pack survives this as well. She pulls the trident out of the tribute she’d stabbed before and kills another one, an old lady who looks a little grateful to be taken out. 

That stings, like one of those monstrosity bees they had made during Yanagi’s year in the arena, but Yukimura purses her lips together and looks around. Most of the tributes have given up on reaching the Cornucopia’s bounties and have scattered for the mountains with what little they could get. She is not keen to chase after them for now, so Yukimura leaves it be, as she turns around to her allies, feeling her feet squelch a little. 

Yanagi has a slight burn across her cheek, Marui has a bigger one along his arms, but otherwise, everyone looks ready to go. Yukimura breathes heavily and smiles gratefully at all of them. Nine of them. It’s one of the largest career packs since her own turn in the ring. “Alright.” she orders, with a weariness to her tone as she unhooked the bow from her back, to give to Yanagi, “Let’s sort through what we have. Someone tally up food and water, someone deal with gadgets, someone look for any miscellaneous objects, and uhh, someone look for shoes.” she says, as she glances down and realizes that the squelching isn’t just blood but the soles of her shoes slowly melting. 

She places down her backpack on the Cornucopia floor and starts placing out objects on the floor, as Inui, Jackie, Marui and Yanagi get organizing. Sanada’s hand rests on her shoulder, reassuringly, and she leans into it, shutting her eyes for a moment. She’s killed three people already, three more than she ever wanted. She’s already done her fair share of killing.

"Shiraishi, Fuji and Saeki ran off together." says Sanada, quietly. "I saw Tezuka and Atobe allying and slipping away as well."

"Mizuki-san went away by himself too… murmured Sakuno, from where she has a tight grip around Yagyuu’s hand, for steadiness. Yagyuu’s brown hair is coming out of the neat bun that she prefers, but she is composed, her glasses clean and her shiny clothes neat. Niou’s hand is on his weapon as he glances out towards the ring. It is unlikely that people will return to the Cornucopia now, but he is right to be on guard. They are more than ten years older than her, but easily submit to her commands. It’s rather impressive. 

"Food is mostly bread and starch. Few fruits and vegetables. No water." reports Yanagi, her tone clipped and slightly frustrated. Things to make them more thirsty, how wonderful. 

Yukimura scans the area, trying to find a camera, and frowns, as pathetically as she can, up at the sky, where she knows that cameras will be. “This is where we need your help.” she says, softly. “Since we are the beginning of the game, please send in even a little money. Every drop of water will help us in this world.” 

No parachutes follow, but Yukimura knows that their mentors for the game need to work on organizing things first. “Shoes.” announces Marui, as he tips out lots of pairs of shoes to the floor and everyone grabs a pair and starts to exchange them. Yukimura’s mind is not on the shoes though, as grateful as she is to have actual footwear. She instead scans the slopes of the volcanoes and frowns. 

"There are plants around. Small ones, but they are there. That means there is water somewhere. We just have to look for it." she comments, softly, as Jackie and Marui argue over shoes, jokingly. 

Niou nods, as he ties his own laces and flicks his silver rattail behind his shoulder. “Yeah, should leave soon. The lava level here’s rising. Ought to get to higher ground, at least.”

Yukimura nods, as she looks down at their supplies scattered and sorted out. “Let’s finish categorizing and then we can g—”

She is cut off by the cannons firing. Ten cannons fire and her face stills a little. Only ten people are dead, but ten people is still a large number. “Nine of us… Atobe and Tezuka, Shiraishi, Fuji and Saeki’s trio and Mizuki….one of the others has died.” says Inui, doing the math quickly, in his head and they all exchange grim looks. 

-

Ten cannons. Atobe bites his lip, momentarily, before he forges forward, to catch up with Tezuka’s long stride, over the heated rock. That’s ten people dead already. Where were Yukimura’s bold words about not wanting to kill anybody now? He scoffs slightly, as they reach a small plateau and take a few breaths.

"You have a sword?" asked Tezuka, as they unload their backpacks, that they’d managed to grab while avoiding Sanada’s jabs with his javelin. Atobe had almost scarred Sanada too, until some other tribute had blocked his view. 

"No, just knives." says Atobe, as he lays out his things. There’s very little food, but to his surprise, he notices a pair of extra shoes and a small medical kit. Those may come in handy. And then, coils and wire. He looks up at Tezuka, whose games still scared the Capitol. Tezuka looks up at the wires and shakes his head momentarily. 

There will be no explosions this time around. “Well then.” says Atobe decisively, as he glances up at the darkening sky. “You have the only sleeping bag. Take that and rest. I’ll keep watch for the first half.”

Tezuka looks reluctant. “Are you sure?” he asks, evenly, as he splits his bread in half and hands one part of the loaf to Atobe. After the Capitol’s luxury food for over ten years, going back to rations is difficult, but Atobe forces himself to take a bite and not grimace too much. 

"I’m sure." he says, dismissively. "Rest up, you took on Sanada directly before I could shake off Yagyuu." 

Tezuka nods and pulls himself into the blanket, but it is evident that he cannot sleep, after at least fifteen minutes of silence pass and Tezuka’s breath remains ragged. Tezuka will not bring up conversation, so it is up to Atobe. “Do you miss home? Living in the actual districts?” he asks, as he pulled through his coiffed locks, with his fingers, feeling his fingers catch on the remnants of gel. 

"Sometimes." admits Tezuka, after a long pause. "But my mother and my grandfather are now exempt from work. And I cannot bring myself to regret that."

Atobe nods, his features soft, to hide the inner thoughts. People would go crazy if he and Tezuka fell in love. It would give him more of a reason to live than the hypocritical Yukimura. But he had a wife at home, and if he or Tezuka lived, things would go badly. And Ji’s smile haunted him, he couldn’t do it to her. 

"My wife was never suited for our district’s work. She is intelligent beyond belief, not made for manual and boring work." Atobe says, softly, as he leans back. "She doesn’t have to work because she can live with me. I think that is more satisfactory than anything."

Tezuka doesn’t even look surprised by his admission. Everyone knows about Atobe’s wife, if they aren’t the Capitol’s foolish audience, but he’s never admitted it anywhere where the Capitol can find out. “For all of this pain, there is a light.” says Tezuka, evenly, but they are both thinking of how a world would look like where there weren’t districts at all. 

"Indeed." Atobe says, his voice slightly hollow. "I wonder how they will reward us when we leave?" he asks, his voice dry and bitter. They have broken their promise that Atobe will never have to enter an arena again. Whatever reward they give will be hollow to the Victors, even more than it had been the first time around. 

It is too warm to properly sleep, surrounded by desert sands and boiling lava, but Tezuka does not answer his question, as he shuts his eyes. Atobe runs his hand through his hair again and leans back, eyes on the rising lava level from the Cornucopia and the volcanoes that surround them. 

-

Nightfall is coming but Shiraishi and Fuji show no sign of slowing down on their climb up the third volcano. Saeki is exhausted and without his preferred weapon, but he managed to wrest a javelin from somebody and it will do, even if it is not perfect like a trident. 

"We are not stopping?" asks Saeki, as they pass another perfect plateau where they could sleep. 

"Not this time." says Shiraishi, who doesn’t even look out of breath. "I want to see the top of the volcano." Young people. Saeki exchanges a look with Fuji, who just quirks her eyebrows, but doesn’t still, as she matches Shiraishi’s stride. 

He is the dead weight in this group, Saeki knows. Shiraishi the Bible, the man whose sword technique still amazes the Capitol to now, because of its perfection. And then Fuji the genius, the one who outwitted the games by using the Capitol’s mutated animals to kill for her. Not a single drop of blood stains her hands and Saeki has never once seen her stir in her sleep from a nightmare. 

She is a world away from him, as ever. It is a wonder she even spares him the time of day. It is simply because of their childhood friendship, he knows. Fuji is loyal to a fault and she will always tell him that he is worth the world because he is her best friend, but Saeki knows in his heart of hearts that she will not choose him first when it comes to save somebody. 

He hopes she will pick herself, but she is self-sacrificing to a fault. It is to Yuuta that her love will go, Saeki knows. It is only a wonder that Yuuta is alive and away from this game, or Saeki is sure that she would have killed every tribute with her bare hands to spare him.

"What’s at the top of the volcano?" asks Saeki, as he glances behind him, worried about the small sounds he is hearing behind them.

"No idea." Shiraishi says. "That’s why I want to see. There should be a forcefield surrounding us, like in Tezuka’s game, but we won’t be able to trip it with as much ease as Tezuka did."

"Besides, I do not think we would survive if we set it off." says Fuji, with a slight smirk. "Unless matyrism is your new aesthetic, Shiraishi?"

"Getting home to my sister is my new aesthetic, Fuji." says Shiraishi, with a shrug, as he shoulders their sole backpack on his back and keeps walking. "I want to see her smile again."

"Isn’t that all of our goals…?" murmurs Fuji softly, as she follows him again. 

This is frustrating, he can hear the sounds again, like a small panting, as if something is following him….is it human? Saeki frowns and turns around, stopping altogether, as he peers through the rock and the sparse trees. If it is a Capitol animal, it will have attacked by now. 

"Kojirou?" asks Fuji’s voice, concerned and slightly sharp.

Saeki cannot see anything. For the best. “Nothing, nothing.” he says with a rakish grin, as he jogs up to catch up with them, using his javelin as an extra balance. Shiraishi looks a little unimpressed but Saeki is not here to impress somebody. He is here to help Fuji survive. 

"So what, you used to live in District 5, right?" asks Saeki, with a warm smile, trying to be friendly to Shiraishi, even if he doesn’t want to. "Energy district?"

"That’s correct." says Shiraishi, with a small smirk. "All about the way to use as little energy as possible and be as efficient as possible. And a little about laughter. We were always a cheerful district. My home was always filled with laughter."

"That sounds like District 4." says Fuji, softly. "Kojirou and I grew up in the water and with a great sense of comradeship and laughter between everybody. I used to call him a fish, he never wanted to leave the sea. We did our job with as much happiness as we could muster. It was always sunny and warm, even when it rained, so it never felt like a toil."

Saeki smiles, reaching for Fuji’s hand, which she takes, easily. “She was like a mermaid. She could swim the fastest and the furthest in the ocean, until the rest of us couldn’t even keep up.” he says, with a laugh. “It burst a lot of egos, including my own.”

"I can imagine!" Shiraishi says, laughter in his tone and a slight sparkle to his eyes, the most animated that Saeki has seen him yet. "My sister used to complain that I was too good at whatever I did and that I should pass down some of my talent to her, so she could pass her classes."

Saeki laughs, softly, and tips his head back, as Shiraishi mimes how his sister used to prod him and it is by virtue of that that he notices the glimpse of maroon hair in the shadows and manages to push Fuji down. 

There is a sharp stab of pain and red tinges the edges of his vision. He chokes a little, as the blood leaks from the wound in his chest, where he has taken the arrow meant for Fuji. Glancing up at Fuji’s furious blue eyes and her immediate turn towards the threat, Saeki dies, contentedly. Her blue eyes were always beautiful, no matter how angry she was. 

-

Mizuki swears, angrily and tries to double away. He’s missed! He’d been meaning to catch Fuji, but he got rid of the easiest one to kill instead. He sprints away, as quickly as he can, through rocks and little hints of lava oozing through the floor, and it isn’t easy. 

Sprinting downhill is a constant struggle to not trip over from going too fast, and slowing himself down to a speed where he can control himself is too difficult. Still, he manages to evade Fuji’s furious lunge for him and keeps going, despite his feet starting to ache from the heat and the sharp pebbles. 

Seeing a good plateau to climb, Mizuki jumps for the rock and pulls himself up with the sheer force of his hands. He has never had much upper body strength, but fear for your own life can propel you to do anything. He keeps climbing, his eyes trained downward, where Fuji and Shiraishi have stopped. They look at him, and how isolated this rock peak and just take a seat at the base of the rock. 

They plan to starve him out. Wonderful. 

Honestly, Mizuki isn’t sure of what would have happened even if he had succeeded in killing Fuji. then he’d have had Shiraishi and a furious lover Saeki after him. One less competent person, sure, but either scenario ended up with him up here. But Mizuki hadn’t had the time for one of his elaborate schemes. He’d just escaped the Cornucopia and had stopped them. He’d had to take that advantage and that had been the first time they had gotten distracted. 

When would they have ever gotten that distracted again? Never,t hat’s when. Mizuki made the right decision. 

"Heh." he says, pretending to be confident and have a plan, as he balances on the edge of the ledge, swinging his legs a little, as they start to place their backpack down, when they interrupted by the shots of cannons. Ten. 

Yukimura’s career pack is nine, those two below him exist, he is here…that means that there are two other people out there, and Mizuki is sure that they are Atobe and Tezuka. What a trouble, he thinks to himself. He is going to die quite early in this game with such strong competitors. Instead, he smirks, tangles his fingers in his hair to twirl, and giggles to himself, in his normal way. 

Pretending to have a plan had gotten him through the first game. He’d gathered his people close and let them die for him and his plan, which had been very non-existent. But it has been impossible to do that with Yukimura and her career pack. And the allies he’d managed to gather had foolishly darted for the big stuff like backpacks instead of a weapon, which meant they were now dead. 

What a trouble. What a trouble. Think. He can outsmart this. He knows he can. He just needs…time. Which is very short for him right now. 

"Well viewers, if you have any ideas of how to get out a suggestion would be helpful." he said, as he notices the camera hovering around as a bird. "Why not some food too, nfu?" he asks, with a false cheer. 

There is no response as Mizuki looks up at the artificial night sky. Nothing. “Mmm.” he says, softly, as he scans the horizon. He can see for a long distance from the top of this small rock formation, though the top of the volcano still looms over him from behind. Four volcanoes…

"What would you bet that the volcanoes are getting ready to explode, soon?" he murmurs, as he tugs at his curls and back towards the cornucopia, where the bunch of bright colours slowly move towards the opposite volcano to Mizuki and Fuji, thankfully. "If that’s the case, staying up here would be useful… that would kill off Fuji and Shiraishi as well…" 

He shrugs, with a smile. “The game will on. And food is necessary. So think of me, viewers.” he says, with a crook of his eyebrows. Are they even showing his footage? He can only hope so. 

He starts humming, as he watches the career pack’s progress. They are slow. He may still have a chance. If the volcanoes explodes, he has the perfect vantage point. “Who’s better at survival now, Sakuno?” he asks, lightly, as he hums even louder. Perhaps it will irritate Fuji and Shiraishi.


	38. will you draw the world to a standstill in your petulance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His Dark Materials/Tenipuri ficlet

The rumour spread around the school with a speed that still amazed Yukimura, that Yagyuu of class 3A’s daemon had stabilized. Isn’t it cool? I thought that didn’t happen until you were like in high school? Well Yagyuu’s sort of weird anyway. 

Yukimura just sat back from the rumours and smirked, as his own daemon curled up around his shoulders, swishing her tail back and forth. Currently, Amèlie was a lynx, but she would probably get bored of the colour around lunchtime, he predicted. She gave him a slightly baleful glare at his thoughts, and her tail whipped against his neck with some force, but he didn’t let it faze him. He and Amèlie could never really dislike each other. 

"I wasn’t expecting it." murmured Yanagi from where he was sat next to Yukimura, his Nysa drawing his pen across his fingers as they waited for the teacher to arrive. "Someone else from 3A was supposed to have stabilized first."

Oh, Yukimura knew that Sanada was supposed to have stabilized first. His best friend’s daemon had either been a wolf or a rottweiler since he was eight, and the only time it changed to anything that wasn’t canine, was for convenience when travelling. Sanada had known exactly what he wanted his daemon to stabilize into for a long time. So it was strange that Yagyuu managed to stabilize before Sanada had.

"Niou will be disappointed, they won’t be able to use the Switch anymore." said Yukimura, with a slight shrug. "They’ll have to find another way to win tennis matches."

Yanagi snorted, softly, and stopped his pencil as their sensei arrived and started to lecture immediately, to make up for her lateness. Yukimura found his mind wandering a little. Stabilizing. It was around the time that most people stabilized, around their puberty. Girls stabilized earlier than guys, but somehow Yagyuu had managed beat out all of the girls all well.

His daemon stretched softly, as she buried her face into his neck and shuffled around. Yukimura had to resist the urge to laugh from the ticklish sensations and glared at her to knock it off. She looked quite prim, as she stilled and Yukimura sighed, as he reached up to stroke her fur. Spoilt brat. 

He wondered what that said about him? All of her forms had been beautiful. She liked cat and rodent forms, though she preferred cat forms. She didn’t like being birds, reptiles or insects, and thought that bigger animals were too inconvenient. Yukimura predicted that Amèlie would stabilize as a mountain bobcat or a leopard. But Amèlie didn’t like him speculating, saying that it unnecessarily rushed her and that it was her choice.

Yukimura refrained from pointing out that they were the same person, but she could usually hear him think it anyway. 

He and Yanagi were similar with that, in that their daemons had a preference, but were not so rigid as Sanada’s daemon. Yanagi’s Nysa loved being a bird, and flickered between all sorts of types of bird, plumage varying according to their moods. Yanagi got a little annoyed when Nysa gave away his mood despite his own poker face, but Yukimura thought it was useful, even when Nysa was sometimes a conspirator in Yanagi’s mindgames and changed her plumage even when Yanagi wasn’t feeling a particular mood. 

It was certainly different to Niou. Yukimura honestly wondered how people like Niou and Jackal would be able to cope when they stabilized. Niou’s daemon changed according to the people he was talking with, to gain the most reactions, and Yukimura always felt sorry for Niou’s daemon when he was in a conversation with a lot of people and she had to keep up switching, so quickly. He wondered whether a chameleon would even do for Niou or not. 

And then there was Jackal’s daemon, who was a different animal every day and Yukimura didn’t think he’d ever seen repeats. Jackal said it added to variety and it allowed her to decide which one she felt most comfortable in, but Yukimura sometimes wondered if it didn’t hinder progress. 

Amèlie smacked his neck and Yukimura looked up to see his teacher turn towards him. “Yukimura-kun, what’s the answer to the question on the board?” she asked, looking a little annoyed by his lack of attention. The year that the Americans came to Japan, Commodore Perry and the Treaty of Kanagawa… “1845?” asked Yukimura, with a shrug, trying to remember the reading from the night before. 

"1854." she said, looking a little more mollified. "Please pay attention in class, Yukimura-kun." she said, sternly and Yukimura apologized, quietly, as his hand went up to stroke Amèlie for warning him. He’d better pay attention. 

-

As the bell rung, Yukimura finished packing up his stuff, as Amèlie turned into a fox to easier stay around his neck and grabbed Yanagi’s sleeve. “You going to 3A?” he asked. 

"Yes. I’ll wait for you." said Yanagi, as he adjusted his backpack. Nysa fluttered around his head, looking excited and Yukimura smirked, softly, as he swung his messenger bag over his shoulders and walked out of their class. 

"3A already had the maths test, let’s ask Sanada how it was." said Yukimura, as he untucked his jumper and rolled up the sleeves to his blazer. As much as he loved the western curriculum style of Rikkai, he really disliked the western uniform. 

3A was already crowded and loud around Yagyuu’s desk at the back fo the classroom, so instead, Yukimura traipsed over to where Sanada was sitting and working on his homework. Ken-chan was slumped over at his feet, looking slightly bored. Yukimura leant down to stroke Ken-chan, easily and Sanada looked up, with a little start. 

Technically, you weren’t supposed to touch each other’s daemons without permission each time, but Yukimura and Sanada had never really worried about that stuff. And besides, Ken-chan loved Yukimura’s petting. “How’d the math’s test go?” asked Yukimura, as Amèlie jumped off his back and curled up on Ken-chan’s back. 

"Could have been better." said Sanada, as he bent back over his work. "Don’t get stuck on the second question otherwise you won’t finish, since you’re slower than I am. But Renji, Nysa, you two will be fine."

Nysa joined the pile of their daemons and Yukimura propped up his feet on Yanagi’s lap and he cracked open his bento, his eyes flickering over to the commotion around Yagyuu. “What a trouble. I hope they won’t do that every time someone stabilizes.”

Yanagi shook his head. “It’ll become commonplace soon enough. Akuto-nii-chan said that it was really awful at his school when it first happened, but after ten people had stabilized, it became less of a novelty and more of a reality.” His hand stilled over his notebook and he frowned. “Nii-chan said that he used to run a betting service about people’s daemons…”

Sanada frowned, looking up from his workbook. “You’re a school council member, have some dignity, Renji.”

Yukimura waited until Sanada’s head was down until he mouthed ‘do it’ at Yanagi, making the other smirk and Nysa twitter with amusement. Yanagi was good at guessing daemon forms, to the point where it frustrated even Niou, who tried his hardest to try and break free of the predicted habits. If Yanagi could make a quick buck out of his talent, then why not?

Yagyuu finally pulled himself out of the crowd, looking a little shaken, with a white fox twirled around his neck, looking very shy. Yanagi raised an eyebrow, but looked quite amused. 

"Hello, Yukimura-kun." said Yagyuu, looking a little flushed as he paused by their table. "We still have practise today, don’t we?"

"Yeah, it should be alright." said Yukimura, with a grin. "Unless your fans are hindering you?"

"No!" Yagyuu quickly protested, with a quick bow. "I’ll make sure it isn’t a problem." he said, adjusting his glasses as he straightened, which made the light glint over them in a sinister manner. Yukimura laughed and clapped his hands and Yanagi looked rather impatient, and not up for Yagyuu’s usual way.

"Yagyuu, how does it feel? he asked, finally, when Yukimura leant back in his chair a little. 

"…like something makes sense. Like a puzzle piece you didn’t know you were missing has joined you and completed you." he said, looking a little embarrassed at his wording, and Yukimura just smiled. He’d read Yagyuu’s poetry, it was always flowery like that. 

"So what triggered it?" asked Yanagi curiously, as he glanced up at Yagyuu’s fox daemon, who slowly looked less and less shy. 

"Well, nothing in particular. I think….Niou and I were joking around after practise about how he was probably a tanuki in disguise and Mania turned into a fox and well, so did Kieta." he said, as his fox looked up. "It just clicked."

Yukimura frowned and glanced at Sanada, who had stopped writing, a clear indication that he was actually listening to the conversation. His grip around his pen was tight and Ken-chan’s ears were up and on high-alert, with his tail as straight and still as a rod.

"Keita, have you turned into this form before this?" asked Yanagi, with a frown. Kieta shook his head and Yukimura gave Sanada a very worried look, as he looked dangerously close to snapping his pen. Surely the implication couldn’t be that Ken-chan’s preferred form wasn’t his actual form? "I’ve been a fox before, but not this pigmentation." he said, looking rather more embarrassed than ever as Yanagi’s eyebrows rose. 

Yagyuu ran his hand over Keita’s fur and Keita softened a little, looking a little more relaxed and comfortable with himself. 

With an relieved smile, Yukimura ran a hand through his hair, and Amèlie stretched out contentedly on Ken-chan’s back. “Thanks Yagyuu. We won’t keep you from lunch anymore. See you later.” said Yukimura, before Yanagi could ask his next question. Yanagi glared at him and Yukimura made a slight head gesture to indicate that Yanagi drop it. 

Yagyuu raised a hand in greeting, before quickly striding out of the classroom to go find someone else. Yukimura just grinned. “Sanada, you and Ken-chan should whirl through pigmentation, that means that you guys can settle quickly.”

"And be one of the first ten to stabilize? I don’t think so." said Sanada, as he turned a page and started writing again, his neat penmanship filling the quality paper. "I enjoy my privacy."

Yukimura leant back, with a sigh. “Well, it seems that the best way to put it off anyway, is to avoid shifting your form too much. What do you say Amèlie, you mind a couple of months as a fox?” They both knew that they weren’t a fox and that would maybe keep her the same. 

"No." said Amèlie, with a petulant tone to her voice. "I don’t think so." And just to spite him, she turned back into a lynx and started licking her paws. Yukimura rolled his eyes at her, causing Nysa to turn into a red crow, looking quite amused. 

Yanagi snorted softly, and took a mouthful of salad. “Even if you don’t change often, everyone stabilizes, Seiichi. We can’t escape that: before we turn eighteen, everybody stabilizes.”

-

As soon as Yukimura finished unpacking his lunch box in the sink, he traipsed his way back upstairs. It was late, almost midnight. Tennis practise had ran overtime and dinner at Sanada’s house had been so enjoyable that Yukimura hadn’t wanted to leave. He’d almost accepted Sanada’s offer to sleep over, but he realized that he probably wanted to grab his other books from home and actually sleep in his own bed, so he’d walked back, not wanting to ride home. 

With a sigh, Yukimura collapsed down onto the huge bed, feeling the memory foam shape underneath him and bounce a little as he gazed up at the dark shadows of his room, illuminated only by the light of the moon outside. 

Amèlie traipsed in after him, shutting the door behind her and morphing into a big cat as she too leapt onto the bed and curled around Yukimura. They shuffled a little bit, until most of Yukimura was buried in her fur and her steady purring rumbled through his back. 

He couldn’t sleep without her like this. They’d tried it once and it had been one of the worst nights for them. She was a protection from the world around him, who kept him strong at night, where he kept her protected at day. That was how it worked and if she stabilized their balance would become uneven at some point. 

"I don’t want you to stabilize." murmured Yukimura, as he carded his fingers through her soft fur. "I want you to be small and petulantly cute in the school days, and fast and viciously stealthy for when I am tennis captain and large and quietly intimidating for anyone who challenges me. I want to you to be all of me and none of me all at once."

Amèlie was quiet for a little while, her feelings conflicted, before she spoke up. “Don’t you want to feel whole?” she asked, quietly. “What Kieta has, how content he is…I want that.”

"Do you feel broken? Do you feel empty?" challenged Yukimura, twisting around to meet her large golden eyes. "We are whole. We are content. Why should we need to change?"

"Even you cannot change the will of Dust. " said Amèlie, quietly, butting her head against his chest. "We will become more whole and I will stabilize, whether you like it or not. Is it not better to accept it?"

He snorted softly. “Have faith. Am I not kami-no-ko?” he asked, with a lightly teasing voice. Amèlie was quiet and gave him a glare similar to Ken-chan’s one and growled a little.

"Do you not remember a year in hospital? You are not so strong as you once thought." Her voice was quiet and slightly angry.

"We lived." said Yukimura, firmly, as he laced his fingers through her fur and gripped, tightly. "We survived when they all said we should have died. What makes you think that we cannot defy the decree of Dust? You are mine and I am yours and together we can take on the world."

Amèlie sighed, softly and let her head thump against the memory foam. “I am unsure, Seiichi, You are, as well. Let our future come, that is all I ask.”

"And I ask in return that if we can fight against having to only choose one of your many beautiful forms, that you will stand with me." Yukimura murmured, as he turned back around until her warmth and fur engulfed him. 

"Are we not one?" asked Amèlie, sleepily, as she tucked her head next to his. 

"One." Yukimura sleepily agreed, as he shut his eyes and let his daemon lull him to sleep. Tomorrow would be another day.


	39. Modelling and More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Inspired by this amazing image of Ryoma](https://33.media.tumblr.com/4fd8580a2b688b088e1a6bf12570f5d5/tumblr_nhj4isexox1qbbpyfo3_1280.jpg)

The problem with being sponsored by Atobe was that despite the relative freedom in daily life, there was some unavoidable excesses that Yukimura had to attend. Unlike the other tennis players sponsored by Atobe, Yukimura actually enjoyed the huge parties with a deep passion, but he could do without the frequent photoshoots in some of the most frivolous outfits. 

At the moment, he was posing for the tennis calendar that Atobe was making for the fans, and that required a lot of fanservice with other players. He’d already let Ryuzaki Sakuno braid his hair on camera, played clapping games with Chitose Miyuki the day before, and had pretended to play the piano with Shiraishi, one half of Japan’s best doubles. But now he was doing the more serious photoshoots with his rivals.

At the impatient clap from the photographer, he adjusted his pose until he was practically balanced on Tezuka’s shoulder. Tezuka reluctantly changed his position on his chair, until their heads were nearly touching, at some hand-gestures from the photographer’s assistants. 

"You know, I wonder whether this is actually for the fans sometimes, or whether it’s actually for Atobe’s own pleasure." murmured Yukimura, to Tezuka, with a sly smirk.

Tezuka’s head whipped around and glared firmly at Yukimura, with a little horror in his eyes, and Yukimura couldn’t help but tip his head back and laugh at that reaction. If he wasn’t mistaken, Tezuka’s mouth twitched up a little into a small smile at that, which only made Yukimura laugh harder. That was the most reaction he’d gotten out of Tezuka in a long time. 

The photographer clicked his tongue impatiently and cut the camera. “I think we’re done for now. Tezuka, you can go home. Yukimura, we’re taking a break, go fix your makeup and eat something.” he barked, before striding away. Yukimura grinned again, feeling the makeup crack a little more with satisfaction, and stretched out his arms and neck. 

Tezuka straightened up from the chair and rolled his neck. “Have a good holiday, Yukimura.” he said, with a curt nod. 

"Right, you too. Unless you break tradition and show up at Atobe’s bashes, I guess I’ll see you at Aussies." said Yukimura, raising a hand in farewell.

Tezuka just raised an eyebrow in response and walked away from the shoot room. Yukimura pulled off his heavy suit jacket and draped it over his shoulders as he meandered away to the cameras. It was a deep, rich blue, slightly lighter than his hair, and embroidered with silver thread, and it really was lovely, but under the heavy lights, it was rather uncomfortable. 

"Sorry for that." he apologized to one of the remaining photographers, but she shook her head. 

"No, it’s just fine. He ended the shoot because we didn’t think we could get a better picture." she explained, with a coy smile, as she showed him the image that she’d managed to get. His head was tipped back in laughter, and Tezuka was smirking slightly and the two of them looked very natural. He had to admit, the fans would probably find it very amusing and it still managed to look elegant. 

"Nice. So what’s next for me?" he asked, cracking his fingers. 

"Solo shoot with Echizen and then that’s it. Since you all did the group shoot at the beginning, in your tennis outfits, we won’t need you all in your suits and dresses." said the photographer, as she stood up as well. "You should go get a drink, we expect your shoot with Echizen won’t go as quickly as this one."

Yukimura just pulled a lightly commiserating smile and walked out of the room himself, to get to the tennis player’s dressing room. At least he didn’t have to do any shoots with the actors and dancers underneath the Atobe name, but even doing this many shoots with the other tennis players was tiring. He couldn’t wait to get home and call the rest of Rikkai up. 

He pushed his way into the shared dressing room, rubbing at his eyeliner and foundation sleepily, and threw himself down on his chair. “Ready for several hours with me, Echizen?” he asked cheerfully, as thoroughly ruined his eye-makeup, but was able to actually blink without concentrating. 

"No." said Echizen’s petulant voice, and Yukimura turned around to face him and was stunned a little into silence. They’d done a good job on making the kid look less like an awkward teen and more like an adult. He wore a tight suit with a black shirt and red everything else, with contrasted greatly with his pale skin and accentuated his broadening shoulders. But that wasn’t the stunning part. That was his face, with one side of his hair gelled back, and the other curling across his face. He looked very attractive, with just a smidge of lip gloss on his pouting lips. Still, Echizen seemed nothing but pissed off by his transformation.

Yukimura laughed, softly. “The Atobe effect strikes you too.” he said, with a grin. “I didn’t know it was actually possible to make you attractive, but miracles happen, I suppose.” He was only sort of lying. He’d never thought about Echizen that way when they sat together in interviews, pissed off each other at practises or passed each other inbetween events. But when they played endless rallies underneath the heat of the french sun, feet unearthing dust and dirt and clay, sprinting after the ball, eyes locked and focused completely on each other….well, he’d definitely noticed then. There was no denying that tennis brought out the best and most passionate sides in everyone. 

Echizen scowled furiously back at him but Yukimura shook his finger, with a smirk. “Uh uh, the makeup artists will be pissed off if they have to redo you and me. Just pout away, that won’t ruin any makeup.”

"You’re a fucker." hissed Echizen, through gritted teeth as he relaxed his expression with force. 

"Yeah, I’m a top, how’d you guess?" Yukimura said, with mischief lining his voice as he grabbed an apple from his bag and started chomping. He was hungrier than he’d thought. Who knew that posing took so much energy? No wonder Mizuki stayed so slim. 

He’d been expecting some sort of spluttered surprise or some sort of reaction, but Echizen just snorted. “As if.” he said, easily and Yukimura’s mouth twitched up at the side, inbetween bites. Interesting. He’d only meant for it to be an offhand comeback, but now he was curious. 

"Are you really doubting that I’m a top?" asked Yukimura, as he finished the apple, with the bites and tossed the core into the bin. "After how I ran Rikkai?" 

"Real life and sex are totally different." murmured Echizen, looking almost bored with the conversation. Didn’t that sound like he had experience with someone being different in real life and in sex?

"So you do doubt me, little bratling." Yukimura said, with a light smirk, as he leant in to Echizen’s face, with a slight smirk. "But I’ll tell you now, there may be those who change in sex, but most don’t." 

Echizen just met his gaze evenly, though his cheeks seemed to be going a little red. “Whether you change or not, you’ll always be mada mada dane.”

Well, wasn’t that a challenge and a half? He was about to say something, when the makeup artist entered the room and gave a dismayed groan at seeing Yukimura’s face. “Oh no, Yukimura-san! Sit down, I have to finish your poor eyes. Echizen-san, stay still, don’t move your face. Neither of you speak!” she ordered, quickly gathering her composure and command.

Yukimura pursed his lips together to stop himself from laughing and exchanged an amused look with Echizen, as she fussed around, cursing underneath her breath about idiot tennis boys. He’d have to pursue his curiosity after the photoshoot. 

The photoshoot was interesting to say in the least, with both he and Echizen being forced into positions of more fanservice than he and Tezuka had been pushed into. “Is this really necessary?” asked Yukimura, as Echizen and he were forced to look like he’d just been glomped. 

"Yes. The less convincing you are, the more we have to do, you know." said the photographer assistant who’d spoken with Yukimura before and Yukimura just sighed, tetchily, rolling his eyes at Echizen. 

"More and more convinced that Atobe wants these for personal use." muttered Yukimura, as he waited for the cue to glomp Echizen. Echizen snorted. 

"Monkey-King’s probably a closet pervert." he muttered in return. "I mean, who knows what he does all alone in his huge penthouse…?" The photographer gave the cue, and Yukimura couldn’t stop the laughter that came from imagining exactly what Echizen was. He pushed Echizen to the ground and took a little pleasure in ruffling his perfect hairstyle a little. Other people’s hair wasn’t supposed to look as good as Yukimura’s own. 

Echizen stiffened a little as Yukimura did so and squirmed away from Yukimura’s touch. But Yukimura didn’t let up, because the camera was still clicking away and he pulled him close, as if Echizen was his little sister and hugged around his neck, smiling widely, before pretending to strangle him. Echizen was practically in his lap and he was still trying to squirm away from from Yukimura, which wasn’t helping anything, especially now he looked even more disheveled. 

Echizen pulled a face at the camera, which caused even the cameramen to laugh and close to shoot. The moment that they finished, Yukimura let go Echizen and pulled himself up, rolling his eyes as he brushed down his suit.

Echizen pulled himself to his elbows, looking quite disgruntled as he stretched his neck muscles and sprung up, like a cat. ”Can I get rid of the makeup now?” he asked a photographer and Yukimura perked up at the question. If the makeup stayed on any longer, he would start to feel like it was his actual face, eyeliner and all. 

The photographer nodded and Yukimura threw up his hands in success. The remaining people in the room laughed and Yukimura bowed down to all of them. “Good work! Thank you for staying with us and for all of your hard work to come.” he said, quickly and warmly. The other photographers smiled and waved as he left. Echizen muttered the same and followed Yukimura back to their dressing room. 

Yukimura reached for the makeup wipes as soon as he got into the dressing room and scrubbed away at the layers of paint that prevented him from doing too much with his face. Echizen reached past to him to grab the box and the two of them both grappled with the box, glaring at each other. 

"Mine is worse." said Echizen, with an acid glare. Yukimura couldn’t deny that, his makeup really did seem all-encompassing, while Yukimura’s own makeup was more subtle, because he was already quite pretty. Still, as they glared at each other over the makeup wipes, Yukimura’s eyes fell down to Echizen’s large, pouty lipgloss covered lips, and his body reacted to exactly how he’d been feeling through the shoot. 

And really, he was quite curious about whether Echizen was just talking shit or not about sex. Echizen had definitely reacted as well. Yukimura let go of his grip on the box to grip Echizen’s shoulders instead. He didn’t say anything as he stared into Echizen’s golden cat eyes, that looked a mix between petulant and curious. Yukimura swallowed softly and leant forward to kiss him. Echizen didn’t push him him away, and seemed to accept the kiss.

Yukimura shut his eyes as he moved his hands up to shrug the red jacket off Echizen’s shoulders and appreciating the broadness of his shoulders under his hands. Even now, Yukimura was still sort of slender and with a sort of lithe muscle, instead of the broader type that most tennis players were. Echizen seemed more than willing to accept the kiss, but the moment that Yukimura pulled away for breath, he pressed in, hungrily. 

The box fell down to the ground, forgotten between them as Yukimura and Echizen started unbuttoning each other’s shirts and waistcoats and Yukimura pressed kisses down Echizen’s jaw. Echizen twisted away a little to bite down on Yukimura’s earlobe. Yukimura gasped a little and hummed. Echizen smirked.

"Mada mada." he murmured, as he started to nibble down Yukimura’s neck. 

"I’ll show you who’s mada mada, you brat." said Yukimura, as he pushed Echizen back against a wall. At least, with Echizen broadening, Yukimura was still taller than him. Keeping a tight grasp on Echizen’s middle, Yukimura slid down to the floor, and unbuttoned Echizen’s trousers. He’d like to see the bratling to stay impassive in the face of this. 

He first palmed the front of Echizen’s underwear, waiting for some sort of reaction. Echizen was quiet, though his lips were pulled into his mouth to try and keep out the sound. How long would that last, Yukimura wondered, with a slight smirk. He then wrapped his mouth around Echizen and pulled down. 

It felt as uncomfortable as ever, but it certainly was worth it, because Echizen’s face twisted a little in ecstasy and it wasn’t long before he spilled into Yukimura’s mouth and moaned, long and slow. Yukimura wiped his mouth, suppressing the urge to choke at the taste, but he stood up and smirked as he pulled Echizen back into a kiss. 

Echizen leant back into the kiss easily, as he reached down for Yukimura’s own substantial erection, when they both heard voices approaching the room. Echizen pushed Yukimura away quickly and reached for his own clothes. Yukimura just reached for the makeup box, since he was half-dressed anyway and started to daub away at his eyes, wishing his erection away with force. It wasn’t working, but he at least looked less guilty when the makeup artists burst into the room to retrieve their stuff, chattering happily. 

Echizen, now wearing his t-shirt and cargo shorts reached over the makeup wipes, his eyes falling to Yukimura’s erection. With a smirk, he mouthed ‘You’ve got a long way to go’, before pinching the box altogether, leaving Yukimura glaring at his back. Fuck that bratling. 

In more way than one.


	40. ReUnion

Adjusting her sunglasses, Yukimura walked out of the airport terminal, dragging the three large suitcases. She usually only took one small portable suitcase, but since she had been in Europe non-stop for about a two months and a half, she’d needed a lot of clothes and jewellery, (because kami forbid that a female celebrity wear the same clothes more than once). 

The terminal was crowded with people, which wasn’t odd, but somewhat irritating, nonetheless. Her distinctive blue-black hair was tucked away inside a stylish beret, and her sunglasses were obnoxiously large to cover her eyes and pale skin, but Yukimura was a household name and there were definitely people who would recognize her, despite that.

She gave the crowd of people waiting at the gates an once-over, looking for someone familiar, but they were evidently not waiting close to the baggage carousel. Yukimura pushed her way through the considerable crowd, using her height to her advantage. She was tall for a japanese woman at 5’10, and her tall heels made her a square six feet of lithe power. 

Finally, as a group of teenage girls whispered inquisitively at her side about ‘yukimura, that’s yukimura seiko isn’t it?’, she spotted the neat calligraphy placard from a distance. She gratefully strode away from the whisperers, her smile increasing in size as she spotted the familiar black cap. 

"Genichirou!" she called, noticing that he was looking outside with disinterest. His gaze whipped around and his frown softened upon seeing her. Yukimura resisted the urge to run up to him, but sped up her pace nevertheless, until they were next to each other. She was exactly his height with the heels and with a satisfied smirk, she tweaked his hat off, to be able to see his tanned face properly. 

"You actually showed up on time, today! And you’ve added some new frown-lines to your forehead, I see." she commented, with an amused smile. 

Sanada just rolled his eyes as he took two of her suitcases from her, and tucked his placard into the side of one of her suitcases. “That is because you actually texted me the time for your flight more than four hours before it was supposed to land.” As they pushed past a small family of bouncing children, he commented dryly, “You’ve gotten more audacious while abroad.”

"Oh, you saw the modelling photos, then?’ she asked, with a wide grin, ignoring the jibe about the text. "What did you think? I thought the swimsuits were a bit modest myself, but you kno—" Sanada just glared at Yukimura and she laughed, tilting her head back. In fact, it had been one of the worst experiences of her life, and she’d never hated being a woman more than in that moment, as the photographers had posed her like a doll and made her desirably vulnerable instead of intimidatingly strong. Unfortunately, contracts were contracts and she had a sponsorship to live up to. Still, she refused to let them cow her, and she was going to joke about it the whole way, rather than let anyone see her disturbed. 

Sanada gave a long-suffering sigh, but the corner of his mouth twitched up a little. Yukimura smiled fondly in return. “Renji couldn’t make it here?”

"No, he couldn’t avoid lab duty. But he said that lunch tomorrow will be his treat." Sanada relayed, as they walked out to the parking lot, and the wind whipped past Yukimura, with a ferocity. She clutched to her beret as they walked towards Sanada’s small hybrid. 

"He’d better." she said, as he clicked the keys open and the boot opened neatly, so she could stow her suitcases in quickly, before the wind stole her hat all together. "He keeps missing out on coming to see me at airports. I’m starting to think it’s on purpose."

Sanada raised an eyebrow skeptically, as he opened the front door for her. “You haven’t had your fair share of fans stalking you to airports?”

Yukimura rolled her eyes as she bent into Sanada’s small car, and collapsed into the seat. “You know full well there’s a difference between my fans and my best friends coming to greet me.” She was grateful to her fans to supporting her like that, but it was a little overwhelming sometimes, especially after a bad flight. It was easier to see her friends whom she could be herself with. “Don’t be a smartass.”

Sanada just smirked, as he twisted the key and they backed out of the airport. “Would you like me to drop you off at your apartment?” he asked, his eyes on the mirror.

"Yes, there’s too much stuff for me to be able to just leave it here in your car, I think." she said, with a sigh, as she pulled off her sunglasses and tugged off the beret, letting her hair fall free, curling at her neck. "Besides, it was an awful flight. No flyovers at all, so I’m not up for going out somewhere, until after a long sleep."

Sanada just nodded. “First class okay?” he asked, twisting the wheel smoothly. He’d gotten better at driving. Or maybe Yukimura was too scarred by crazy french driving, and everything seemed good in comparison. 

"Yes, though one of the cabin hostesses was a tennis fan, which meant I had to sign an autograph or two." said Yukimura, as she tilted her head back and shut her eyes, for a little. "So many congratulations for becoming world number two, honestly."

"It is a great achievement for most." said Sanada, simply. Yukimura knew what he meant. The world had been shocked by her rising from a nobody to world number two in just three years, especially considering that an Asian woman had never done something like this before. Even Li Na hadn’t won successively like Yukimura did. So many people were predicating that she would just burn out quickly, but when she knew about the competition coming her way from Chitose Miyuki and Ryuuzaki Sakuno who were just starting their tennis careers, she was very confident on her being able to keep her edge. 

Of course, what was a great feat to most, felt like nothing. It all meant nothing until she was world number one, that was a philosophy from Rikkai times. Her achievements meant nothing if she couldn’t knock Serena Williams from her spot. Williams was a Titan to pass, with years and years of experience on her side, but Yukimura was an Olympian and she could definitely defeat her. 

"Not good enough. But I’ll get her at Wimbledon, she doesn’t do so well on grass." she said, as she slumped down a little, and sighed, contently. "Why is your car so comfortable, Sanada?"

"You’re just grateful to not be abroad." he said, dryly. "You definitely weren’t saying that last time."

Yukimura’s eyes opened and narrowed. “That’s because you were being impatient and trying to fuck me against the fucking gearstick.” she reprimanded. She would never let that go, the bruises had lasted for a whole week. “The backseat would have been a much more favourable option, you realize.”

Sanada’s face coloured a little. “That was your fault. You kept moving around.”

Yukimura just quirked her eyebrows and shut her eyes again, leaning back against the seat with languid grace. Oh, but she was tired, or she might have asked for a repeat, once he parked. It had been a long flight here, and all she wanted now was to shower and sleep. Actually sleep; not pretending to sleep and persuading Sanada into having sex with her. 

"How’s school going? The professors not infuriating?" she asked, as they slowly inched down the motorway, at a glacial pace. This was the problem with driving anywhere, especially away from Tokyo to Yokohama. 

"They’re always infuriating. But the more I put up with, the closer I get to getting into the NPA." said Sanada, with a low laugh. "The less I say, the more they think that I am a perfect police officer in training." Yukimura snorted dryly, it was good to know that the stereotype worked for both men and women, equally. Don’t speak, look pretty and everyone thought you were great. 

"You’ve got all the contacts by now, so it’ll probably be a quick ride to the top." said Yukimura, cheerily. "But you can’t really make huge change without being in administration or law."

With a slight snort, Sanada switched lanes. “Can you really see me in government, Yukimura?” he asked, dryly. “I would slap them sooner than listen to them blather on.” That too was true, Sanada had notoriously little patience for fools and made it very evident. Yukimura herself hated idiots, but when so many existed inside the entertainment and sports industry, it was easier to shut up and complain later. 

"Too much like your grandfather. You’re too noble for politics, anyway." said Yukimura, easily. "No idea how you’d have been a samurai in the old days."

Sanada didn’t respond with something dry and challenging as per usual, just frowned and let his hands tighten on the wheel. Yukimura sat up a little and rethought over her words. What had she said? She didn’t think he’d have been a good samurai…god, they definitely were beyond those petty fights, they’d got those over in middle school. Too noble for politics was a fact. So…his grandfather? He didn’t want to be like your grandfather? Suck on that, Renji! She didn’t need data to be able to read people. 

"What did your grandfather say that hurt you so much, huh?" asked Yukimura, with a dry laugh. Sanada was a man who’d always loved his grandfather above everything else. 

With a slightly startled look, Sanada shook his head, giving Yukimura a puzzled look. “I-I’m not— he didn’t—”

"What’d he say, Genichirou?" asked Yukimura, again, with a little more force. 

Sanada looked away from her and his gaze fell outside the window, to glance at the gradually speeding up traffic. “…he asked when it was that you and I would hurry up and get married.”

Yukimura laughed, out of reflex, and Sanada seemed to relax a little at that. “I told him it was impossible at the moment. He didn’t seem very satisfied. But he did say that my parents would probably try to set me up on miai anyway…” he said, rolling his eyes. 

With a frown, Yukimura’s hands twisted up in her scarf, tugging at the tassled ends. Marriage. God, she had just turned 22. Marriage seemed like something so far away…but she couldn’t imagine getting married to anyone but Sanada anyway. She’d always been good at sticking to her decisions, and after almost eighteen years of being so close to Sanada, she couldn’t imagine regretting her decision now. Besides, the last thing she wanted was for Sanada to even try and see other girls romantically, when there was no gain to his career. 

"Well, do you want to? Get married?" she asked, with a shrug.

Sanada’s face was perhaps the most amusing thing that Yukimura had seen for some time. “I mean-you mean….what?” he asked, his face colouring a bright shade of puce as his grip on steering wheel tightened even further. “Well…yes…but isn’t it inconvenient?”

Yukimura shrugged, lightly. “Most of the big tennis names are married, anyway. And sure, the media will harp on about it being a flaw of my character like the misogynistic jerks they like to pretend they aren’t. But who gives a shit about them?” she said, with a wicked smirk. “But we have to do it in winter, in a warm country. Oh, I know! We should elope.”

Sanada just snorted. “If you’re ready to be carved alive by my mother and yours, sure.” he said, as they finally took the exit to Yokohama. His face was still flushed and Yukimura smiled fondly. 

"I was joking about eloping. But I wasn’t joking about marrying you." she said, with easy grace. "It’d be a good way for you to get rid of those girls who think you’re dark and brooding, right?" she teased, with a laugh. 

"I don’t want to get married on a whim." he said, quietly, as they turned onto Yukimura’s street. "I have to think about it, you know."

With a small yawn and a stretch of her arms, Yukimura nodded. “Just propose to me when you decide to marry me. Wait till I’m world number one though, okay?” she said, with a smirk. Honestly, she couldn’t see Sanada saying no, not at all, and Sanada shoved her slightly, upon parking, with a scowl. 

"Seiko!" he protested. Yukimura laughed, cheerfully, as she opened the door and stepped out. Home sweet home. Grabbing her keys, she walked to the front door. "Grab my things would you, Sanada?" she called behind her, as she headed in, and only laughed harder when Sanada started quietly grumbling. It was good to be back.


	41. Lazy Days of Juggling and Teaching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Waku <3

With a tired sigh, Yanagi rubbed his sweaty hair with the towel. Today had been a long practise, under the unyielding glare of the sun. The sea air had been sluggish, to the point where Yanagi would have preferred to sit and eat shaved ice, instead of run endless amounts of laps. Still, victory was victory, and they had a goal to work towards.

He shut his locker door, towel still slung around his neck, and nodded a goodbye to Sanada, who was still changing, his expression impregnable. Yesterday had been a bad day for Yukimura, and they both were still tired from the night up on the phone with his father and younger sister. Still, life went on for them, even if Yukimura was trapped inside the white walls of his prison.

His heart ached thinking about it and he pushed the bag onto his back with a little more force than necessary. His quietly melancholy mood was pierced by a cry of “SO cool!” from the other side of the changing room. Raising an eyebrow, Yanagi sauntered over to where the other regulars were gathered around a juggling Niou and Jackal. Jackal’s face was concentrated, his lip half-bitten as he watched his hands, while Niou looked more relaxed and at ease, his shoulders slumped and easily cracking jokes. 

"Niou, you ran away from home two years ago to briefly join a circus, is this what you learnt?" asked Yanagi, dryly, as he adjusted his bag to stand behind Marui and Akaya who were watching with suppressed excitement and Yagyuu, who merely looked interested. 

"Among other things." answered Niou, evasively, as he batted the balls up with the back of his hand, briefly, with an easy grace, that came from a lot of practise. Impressive. But Jackal’s grip on his balls were lighter than Niou’s grip, and if he was to bet on a winner…

Jackal’s eyes flickered to Niou’s display of confidence and his face hardened a little, in competitive spirit. “Bunta, chuck me a couple more balls.” he said, tersely, and Marui obliged, with a slightly nervous look. He cautiously tossed one ball, then another into Jackal’s routine. Jackal’s pace slowed a little, momentarily, but he quickly resumed his pace and his concentrated look became a little easier. How fascinating. Jackal was used to working with larger amounts of things to juggle, if the easy rhythm he’d gained now was any indication. 

Yanagi leant back against the lockers, with an interested look, as he shrugged off his backpack to watch. “Come on, Jackal-senpai, you can do it!” urged on Akaya, as Niou’s speed increased until the balls were just a blur. Niou’s grin turned almost predatory and Jackal looked like he was set to do something extreme, when Sanada coughed from behind all of them. 

Jackal caught all of the balls with the crooks of his elbows and Niou slowed his motion, to a lazy juggling cycle. “Yes, fukubuchou?” asked Jackal, politely. 

"I need to lock up the room. Go home." said Sanada, as straightforward as ever. What a pity, it would have been interesting to have seen a winner. Yanagi still thought it would have been Jackal, but he’d have preferred to see it to an end, since Niou so often side-stepped his predictions. 

"Aww, fukubuchou, can’t you wait a bit?" whined Akaya, but Yanagi placed a hand to Akaya’s shoulder, reassuringly, as he picked up his bag from the floor. He knew where Sanada was in a rush to go. They hadn’t told the team about last night, to avoid unnecessary concern, but of course, there were other consequences of that decision. 

"No. Get going." said Sanada, walking away from their group, his back straight and tall. 

With a commiserate smile, Niou slung his backpack over his shoulder and made the balls disappear in an elaborate sweep of his hands. Yanagi suspected they hid inside the folds of his school jacket, but it was impressive slight-of-the-hand, nonetheless. “Another day, man.”

"You bet." Jackal said, with a laugh, as he tucked his balls into the front pocket of his racquet bag and stood up as well. "You definitely haven’t won."

Niou laughed in return, as he wrapped his arms around Yagyuu’s neck, easily. “That’s what you think.” he said, mysteriously. Yagyuu elbowed Niou, sharply, and they left the locker room, bickering over the homework for their classes, Niou’s grip around Yagyuu’s neck only tightening. 

"You coming with us to the buffet place, Akaya, Renji?" asked Marui, as they too left the locker room, past the impatiently waiting Sanada, hand on his hat. 

"No, Akaya needs to work on his english project." said Yanagi, with a pointed look at the almost-daydreaming boy. At those words, Akaya abruptly deflated and he pouted at Yanagi. "But seennnppaaaiiii." he whined. "I passed this time!"

"With a 55%." said Yanagi, dryly. "That’s horrendous. I want you up to a B, at least. Is this any behaviour for a future captain?" He neglected to mention Yukimura’s hopeless grades in Chemistry and Physics; at least Yukimura easily accepted his and Sanada’s help with the books. Akaya’s pride made tutoring him difficult sometimes. 

Akaya just let out a devastated sigh and stalked ahead of Yanagi, with a petulant expression etched on his childish face. Yanagi tossed an apologetic look to Jackal and Marui, who didn’t seem to mind too much, as they walked away from the school, chattering idly. Sanada locked up the doors and turned to Yanagi, with a courteous nod. 

"Tell Seiichi I say hi." said Yanagi, idly, as he turned away to follow Akaya. 

His only response was a grunt and the sound of steps fading away towards the school gates. He paused a little, to glance up at the sun, still fairly high in the evening sky. The sluggish feeling hadn’t really left the air, and his body felt heavy. Yanagi didn’t feel much like studying himself, but if he was to improve Akaya’s grades, he had to take every chance to drill the material into his head. 

He walked after Akaya, until he’d caught up with the younger boy’s smaller strides. He looked in a better mood already, playing with a stray cat outside the gates, that was following him amicably. The cat turned an uncaring head to Yanagi, who just backed away in return. He had nothing against cats, but he wasn’t too fond of pets himself. The cat walked away, looking snubbed, and Akaya straightened up, with a yawn. “I don’t want to, senpai. What use is english, anyway?”

"You want to be a pro." stated Yanagi, easily, as he stuck his hands in his pockets. "It’s useless to pretend that tennis is anything but european dominated. And inside that, the main language spoken is english. Know it well, if you’re planning on being a pro. They will look down on you if you cannot speak english well." he explained. "It may seem useless now, but it might be one of the only useful things to you, outside of tennis practise. Not to mention, you cannot be captain next year, not with grades like this. I will not be here next year to help keep up your grades. You need to take responsibility for your own existence."

Akaya groaned, but he didn’t protest, obviously recognizing the sensibility in that request. “It’s difficult though.”

Yanagi didn’t retort to that, as they reached his his apartment. They climbed the stairs and he unlocked the door, shuffling inside with a little annoyance at how messy his place always was. Akaya, for his messy nature, had a very efficient housekeeper which made his house look very organized. The benefits of being quite wealthy, he supposed. “Go set up in my room, I’ll make some food.” said Yanagi, as he handed his bag to Akaya and went to go make them both some tea. 

When he returned, Akaya had scrunched up three pieces of paper and was attempting to juggle them, and dropping them quite frequently. Yanagi placed down the tray of small sandwiches and cups of tea, with an amused look. “Juggling is hard, isn’t it?” he said, quietly. “But you keep trying it again, even when you don’t get it right, don’t you? Why?”

"Because it’s cool." said Akaya, with a shrug, as he unscrumpled the papers, to reveal his answer sheet for his english test and Yanagi suppressed an internal sigh at that sight. 

"Why isn’t english cool to you, Akaya? Is it because it is taught in class? Isn’t the fact that you can now speak with 1.8 billion more people than you could have done so before, cool? What part of speaking english is less cool than juggling?" asked Yanagi, sharply. "Because I know that you are very talented when you put your mind to something, Akaya. Your scores in maths and science clearly show that. So what makes english less cool?"

Akaya was quiet, as he picked up his cup. “My teacher’s a bitch.” he said, with a scowl, finally. “How are you supposed to like something when they constantly tell you off for existing in that class?”

Well, that was definitely a reason, more than Yanagi had known before. Akaya could be close-lipped about issues that troubled him. “The teacher’s conduct shouldn’t affect your grades. You don’t need to pay attention in class, when Yagyuu and I tutor you substantially outside of class.” said Yanagi, quietly, as he opened up his notebook. “So we both know it’s something beyond that.” Akaya’s face was mutinous and Yanagi sighed, softly. 

"Just try with me?" he asked, reaching forward to grasp Akaya’s hand. "That’s all I’m asking. Try."

Akaya just flipped his book open and showed Yanagi his vocabulary list for the week. Yanagi picked up his pen and started to work on drilling them into Akaya’s head in as creative a way as he could. 

As they drew to a close, the sun outside of Yanagi’s window was setting. The orange rays trickled through his windows, but the lazy feeling hadn’t quite left Yanagi’s room, and while Akaya had certainly been trying a little, he’d often been distracted, his pen tapping on his face as he gazed off into nothing, unless Yanagi frequently berated him. It was difficult enough to teach without this sort of weather hindering his progress further. 

With a soft sigh, Yanagi got up as Akaya did some exercises and opened the window, to stick his face out of the window and let a little air into the room. There was no sea-air breeze, not yet, but he could taste the salt in the air, and Yanagi knew instinctively that the breeze was coming. His hand drifted to the small pot-plant that Yukimura had gifted him, before he’d been admitted into the hospital. Yanagi had followed Yukimura’s instructions to a T, but the plant still didn’t look as healthy without Yukimura’s vitality. 

Yanagi couldn’t blame it. None of them were quite okay with Yukimura’s soothing and motivating influence. Akaya’s english grades had never been this bad when Yukimura had been around. His eyes fluttered shut, as he tasted the salt on the breeze. He’d never really appreciated the sea more than he had in that moment. 

"Hey, Yanagi-senpai, something happened to Yukimura-buchou, didn’t it?" asked Akaya, quietly. Yanagi’s eyes opened quickly and his breath hitched a little. Not audibly, but enough to be unsettling to Yanagi. Akaya was very sharp when he wanted to be, something most people tended to gloss over when they spoke about their ace. It was moments like this that made Yanagi intrinsically disappointed when Akaya failed at other, more simple topics. 

"Have you finished those exercises?" asked Yanagi, dryly, as he turned away from the window and took his seat back next to the sprawled-out Akaya. "To be staring off into space like that?"

"No." said Akaya, honestly and a little sheepishly, but his expression was still frank. "But something did happen, didn’t it? That’s why Sanada-fukubuchou was in such a snit and you’re all melalcroly!" he insisted, jabbing his finger at Yanagi. 

"Yes." said Yanagi, quietly. "His condition worsened rapidly last night." He didn’t lie to his teammates, not when directly asked. And he could never directly lie to Akaya, not when Akaya was demanding truth like this. Sometimes he spoke white lies, like whether Santa could be coming this year, but never had he lied directly to Akaya’s face about something important. "It’s nothing that he will not recover from."

"You’re scared." said Akaya and Yanagi just nodded. If he said no, that wouldn’t even be a possibility of a white lie. Akaya’s bottom lip pushed out, as he stared down at his paper. 

"It’s just not fair…" he murmured. Yanagi disliked Akaya’s temper on most days, and often found himself almost disgusted by something like the Demon Mode. But one thing that was even more intrinsically repulsive than that, was seeing Akaya sad. It didn’t happen often, not like the frequent annoyance of not winning a high score or being called names by Niou. The real sadness, that came from his disappointment in himself and his worry for other people, was scarcely seen, and when it was seen, was unbearable. Someone as alive as Akaya didn’t belong inside the realm of the quiet sadness that Yanagi occupied. He just didn’t fit. 

"Life’s not fair." Yanagi said, calmly, as he picked up the crumpled test paper answers and scrumpled them up, again. The sound made Akaya look up from his lap, and Yanagi smirked at him, conspiratorially. "Like the fact that I can juggle better than Jackal and Niou combined."

He tossed the six paper balls up in the air and easily, and deftly juggled them at high speed, careful to make sure that his fingers didn’t ruin the rhythm he was establishing. Akaya laughed, freely and widely. 

"Okay, you have to teach me how to do that." said Akaya, eagerly, with a determined light in his eyes, as he leant forward and tilted his head, to create the adorable smile that all of Yanagi’s classmates loved. 

"Only if your grades increase to a solid B." said Yanagi, coolly, as he caught all of the paper balls and placed them on the floor in front of them. "Try in English, and I will be sufficiently impressed with your effort levels to teach you something as intensive as juggling." Akaya looked fit to cut in, but Yanagi held up a hand. "Before you say something, I will be talking to Jackal and Niou to tell them not to teach you how to juggle before I say so. English first."

Akaya’s nose wrinkled up and he picked up one of Yanagi’s paper balls and threw it at him. “You suck, senpai.” But there was a reluctant smile tugging at his lips and Yanagi returned it, along with the paper ball. 

-

Yanagi did not receive the opportunity to teach Akaya how to juggle until four months after Nationals, and by that point, they spent their time inside Yanagi’s empty house doing something far more interesting.


	42. Shattering Barriers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: AU where the troika break the fourth wall.

The three of them gathered in the nurse room quietly, two of three looming over the bed in contrived dramatic effect. The curtains were drawn over the room, casting a dark pallor over the inhabitants of the room. “This is ridiculous.” muttered Sanada crossing his arms over the chest, before he realized that he was contributing to the atmosphere and uncrossed his arms. 

"I agree." Yanagi said, grimly, as he walked over and turned on the light, making everything look a lot less awful. "What is also ridiculous is that you didn’t tell us that you hadn’t recovered until now. We have to find out at the same time as the rest of the camp? Bunta found out about this before we did?"

Yukimura just scowled, from where he was stretched over the covers languidly. He’d been told to rest by the admin after everyone had found out about him still having problems, but he didn’t really feel like it. Technically, there was no need for his best friends to loom over him like this at all, since they could very well just take a seat on the bed as well, but the problem with having terrible authors was that strange things happened all the time. “See, the sensible answer here is something like I didn’t want to worry you. Which is true to an extent, the quality of your tennis is unspeakable when you are concerned about someone else’s welfare. But we all know the real reason.”

Yanagi just nodded grimly and Sanada frowned. “Wait? We do?” he asked quietly. 

"Of course." Yukimura said, with a scowl on his face, "It’s for dramatic effect. You think Konomi really cares about plot continuity at all? Or how illnesses actually work, for that matter."

Sanada nodded, suddenly. Right, that thing. He sometimes forgot they were in a story, it got easy to forget the slight continuity errors to his life when he just focused on doing well in everything he had balanced on his plate. Still, some incongruities were just intolerable. After all, what neurological conditions were treatable by an operation to the chest? Really? 

"I’m so damn frustrated. He’s sending Tezuka away to Germany again, making him unable to play on the main team. Then he’s making me ill again, so what the entire U-17 team relies on Atobe? That ponce? Able to lead the Japan team? Ha." Yukimura growled, with a large scowl on his face. 

"And don’t even get me started on that cocky little brat. Who thinks that he’d be good at leading anything? That kid’s useless. So he’s basically setting Japan up to fail, and we’ll win by some huge deus ex machina, because that’s how things work around that kid— do you believe that he doesn’t even manage to tell that we’re in a story yet?" Yukimura demanded. 

"Be fair, Seiichi, his story and home life is entirely fleshed out and isn’t contrary to each other at points. It would be difficult to detect that he’s in a story from that." Yanagi said, reasonably. "And it’s not like much extraordinary things happen to him. He just wins a lot, and his ego lets him believe that’s entirely his game."

Yukimura growled and tossed his head back. “I’m not pleased at all. It’s such lousy writing. The kid hasn’t changed at all since the beginning of his hero’s journey, all that happened is that Seigaku limpeted to his side and now he thinks that he has some sort of sense of team loyalty. Ha. Pillar of Seigaku, please. The moment that something goes wrong for them, he’ll bail, I’m sure of it.”

Sanada just nodded, darkly. “I don’t believe that Tezuka actually has faith in him as a leader. Tezuka would have been better off grooming one of his second-years to be better leaders, instead of waiting for Echizen’s talent and hoping that he’ll gain responsibility. Life doesn’t work that way. You have to ease responsibility onto people.”

Yukimura made a frustrated noise and nuzzled his way back into one of the softer blankets to hide one of his sighs of anger. 

"We should have won at Kanto." murmured Sanada, suddenly, as a thought came to him.

With a groan, Yukimura darted upwards. “Don’t remind me of your despicable failure.”

"Well, it’s hardly like I wanted to lose." Sanada protested, hotly. "Konomi wrote that into the story, therefore I lost. Konomi also wrote into the story that I went and gave Echizen advice on how to win against you when you were two weeks out of surgery. He doesn’t get very many things right about me."

Yanagi just snorted softly. “Like your name.”

Sanada just scowled at Yanagi. “I’m saying that if he’d planned properly for Echizen to have a proper hero’s journey, I would have won at Kanto, therefore crushing his arrogance and making him actually want to improve. Instead, it was a hollow victory, when you were dying in hospital and they won, even though they would have made it to Nationals regardless of their victory or not. If he’d wanted that hero’s arc, it would have made more sense for us to lose at Nationa—” Sanada cut off suddenly as Yukimura threw him a filthy look. 

Right, that was implying that it was right for Yukimura to have lost. Frankly, Sanada thought that it had been inevitable. It had been Konomi’s fudging that had even gotten Yukimura to Nationals. How many other recently recovered surgery individuals managed to look fully recovered in two weeks, and play a long, 3-hour match like that? He and Atobe, individuals with some of the strongest stamina on the courts struggled with three hour matches, Yukimura definitely should have had trouble.

"Genichirou has a point though." Yanagi said, softly and Sanada sent Yanagi a grateful look. They both read the same sort of fiction; the hero’s journey was an important part of that samurai parallel that Konomi seemed to be making here. 

"Yes well." Yukimura said, his scowl only retreating a little. "That would require him planning more than one story arc in advance. Frankly, it’s a miracle that Akaya got a cameo in one of Seigaku’s previous arcs."

"Well, Rikkaidai is based on his alma mater, he had to be thinking of us in some way, even before he’d properly fleshed out all of the characters and our skills." demurred Yanagi, as he finally perched on the edge of Yukimura’s bed, realizing hat the conversation was going to extend. "Of course, that thought didn’t extend fully, but he tried."

"He obviously didn’t know what he was doing with us though. Or he’d have told the anime planner what he planned to happen in the matches, so we wouldn’t have been stuck with Niou and Yagyuu’s godawful golf play." said Yukimura, acidly. "Or godforbid, the stupid things that Echizen managed to break Sanada’s play with. At least the second iteration in the manga made more sense."

"Or the fact that we had red jerseys." Sanada said, with an annoyed scowl. Red was not something that really suited them, especially not Yanagi and Marui. 

They all shuddered in unison. “If I wanted to play in red, I’d have gone to Rokkaku.” muttered Yanagi, darkly. 

"I despair for the future." Yukimura said, grimly.

"It could be worse. At least we aren’t minor characters." Sanada said, tilting his head, declining to mention that Yanagi had been dangerously close to the precipice of that status for a long time. He remembered with stark relief how relieved he’d been upon hearing that Yanagi’s fans had managed to commission a poster of himself, beating out Atobe, Fuji and Yukimura for first place. It meant that one of their troika wasn’t about to be pushed away for fan whims. 

"Like Yagyuu." said Yanagi and the three of them snorted, even if it was a little uncharitable. 

"Has he even done anything for the entirety of this camp, except win against Niou?" asked Sanada, curiously. He hadn’t seen Yagyuu around, since he had been on the Loser’s Mountain, and even after returning back to the main camp, they weren’t seeing much of Yagyuu around at all. 

"He had been helping Krauser with his japanese to foster inter-country relations and also has been giving some serious looks at Tooyama." said Yanagi, reporting quickly. As expected from him. "Other than that…very little."

Yukimura just snorted, softly and leant back on the bed. “Hmm, so that deals with Nagoya, in any case. Sanada took Akutsu, who’s stronger than the captain of Yamabuki anyway. Marui got Kite and Higa sorted. Niou went ambitious and managed to claim Atobe. Akaya took the person who I had my eye on.” said Yukimura, giving Yanagi a very annoyed look. Yanagi looked unrepentant and Sanada couldn’t help but silently agree with Yanagi’s decision. Shiraishi’s help had probably been the best thing he’d seen happen to Akaya. 

"So that leaves, Seigaku, Fudomine, Rokkaku and Saint Rudolph." murmured Yukimura, as he counted off on his fingers. "And Renji already has Seigaku covered, even if not their most useful player." It wasn’t like he would have been possible to convert Tezuka or Echizen to their side, not after everything. 

"You could go after Tachibana." said Sanada, with a pensive frown. Tachibana was one of those reliable players that everybody wanted on their side. It would have been the sensible choice for Konomi to have made Tachibana the captain of their U-17 team, since everybody respected Tachibana’s quiet determination, but of course, Konomi wasn’t good at decisions, and now they had Atobe, of all people, as a leader. 

"He won’t approve of my decisions. Better to leave that to Jackal." said Yukimura, dismissively. Jackal was just nicer and easier to persuade honourable people with. Honestly, why had Sanada chosen Akutsu? It would have ten times easier to have dealt with that brute and Sanada was actually useful for people like Tachibana, who respected some sense of honour that Yukimura had always found more debilitating than useful. 

"Why don’t you try for the other roommate?" asked Yanagi, quietly and Yukimura just laughed.

"Please." said Yukimura, with a laugh. "Fuji’s like a rattlesnake, all too dangerously possessive of Tezuka. I’m not going to touch that with a ten foot pole. If he finds out that I beat Tezuka in that junior tournament’s unofficial match, he’d probably murder me then bury me somewhere distant to make sure that Tezuka remains the best player on the circuit. I’m not changing his loyalty."

Sanada snorted, dryly. “He’s lost his bite. He hasn’t done anything over this whole camp, either.”

Yukimura shook his head, minorly. “They still selected him for the representatives, and that isn’t solely on his reputation.”

Yanagi coughed and Yukimura amended his statement. “Okay, it’s partially on his reputation and his popularity with fangirls, but he’s also rather talented. Underestimating him would be fatal.”

"Saint Rudolph, then?" asked Sanada, with a skeptical look. The most talented player on that team was: "Mizuki. Do we really want him?”

"Fuji Yuuta." corrected Yukimura, softly, and with a large smirk. "The boy has lots of potential and has an ego that’s easy to stroke. It would also be a large blow to Fuji’s pride. That is, if Konomi would let me close to him." he said, throwing an annoyed look to the ceiling. "I haven’t see him throughout any of the matches yet, or I’d be laying the seeds now."

The three of them exchanged looks and Yanagi coughed again. “If someone takes on Echizen in a match, Tooyama will follow and so will Krauser. Fuji Yuuta might follow as well, but it will be easier to accost him with the whole camp watching.”

Yukimura just hummed, which meant that it was probably going to happen. “I hate this.” he muttered. “I don’t even know what’s going to happen next. Do I get another month of feeling fine after this stupid surgery in America, before my disease is brought back like an unwanted friend to make sure I can’t overshadow his favourites? At this point, I’d almost prefer that he just constantly send me to other places, like Tezuka. That bastard doesn’t even appreciate his holidays.”

"Well, considering most of them are being taken because he’s injured—" Yanagi suggested and Yukimua vowed his hand, interrupting him.

"It doesn’t count, it’s like one hand. That’s definitely a holiday in my book." Yukimura said, his eyes downcast. "I would do anything to only have one hand out of service…"

"It’s a good thing we’re not all like you." said Sanada, with a slight smirk at the edges of his lips. 

"What did you say?" asked Yukimura, his smile sweet and dangerous, but Sanada was already making his way for the door.

"You heard me." said Sanada, simply, hoping to make Yukimura angry and determined, instead of the dejected that he couldn’t stand to see. 

Yukimura stood up tall, his smile practically acidic now, and Sanada properly backed away and out into the doorway. “The doctor said to rest!” he called, before turning tail and fleeing. Not ten seconds later, he was followed by Yanagi, who looked equally amused as he jogged.

"He’ll be here soon. Might as well wait in a good corridor where you aren’t going to knock your head out against the wall."

"Konomi wouldn’t do that." Sanada said, dismissively, as he turned around the corner. Konomi saved most of his injury drama for tennis matches alone. the anime was the one that preferred to expand on their daily lives. 

"No, he wouldn’t." agreed Yanagi. "But we’re not currently being written by Konomi, are we?"

The look on Sanada’s face at that realization was glorious for this one author.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My views on Konomi are nothing but positive. I think he’s a great businessman and created some amazing characters. If only he did more with them… Of course, Troika are not so happy with their disasters xD


	43. Walking in on Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Renji walking in on Yukimura fucking Sanada?

With a slightly frustrated look at exactly how much paperwork was required to be filled out, after the Rikkai division had managed to decimate a good part of the lower city in attempting to catch and kill the escaped monsters, Yanagi made his way back to his shared office with Sanada. Technically, the shared office was against the rules, since he and Sanada were very highly ranked in the military, but neither of them had been entirely comfortable with the fact that the other option had been that his, Sanada’s and Yukimura’s offices would have been on opposite wings of the large military building. 

It was bad enough that Yukimura’s designated office was far away from the rest of Rikkai division, after all. Still, Yukimura never managed to stay in it for very long, preferring to perch on Yagyuu’s desk, patrol the town or hover around Sanada and Yanagi’s office. Even if the higher-ups disliked that it wasn’t easy to find him, Yukimura had managed to avoid an assassination once, and had managed to neutralize three different potential civil war situations, because he was never in his office. Yanagi thought that the negatives of never being able to predict Yukimura’s location was worth the lack of trouble around their district. 

Adjusting the papers in his hands, Yanagi opened the door to their office. “Genichirou, we’re going to have to work overti—”

His voice cut off suddenly as his eyes settled on the fact that Yukimura’s fingers were curled around Sanada’s hips, Sanada’s hair was sticking to the back of his nape, and both of them were perspiring profusely, while being almost entirely naked. Ah.

Yanagi quickly pushed the door shut behind with, with a quiet click, and locked the door for good measure. He glanced to the outside windows. To his relief, they were completely shut, plunging the room into a comfortably dim atmosphere. Nobody else could see. Good. 

And they didn’t seem to have noticed his presence. Yanagi coughed quite loudly, as he placed the papers on his desk (thankfully, Sanada seemed to be bent over his own desk, something of a courtesy, he supposed). He wondered briefly when this development had happened. Had he managed to miss something entirely about the elements of Yukimura and Sanada’s relationship, or had they managed to walk through an entire process that led to Yukimura bending Sanada over his own desk, in less than half an hour?

“Almost done, Renji.” panted out Yukimura, and Sanada’s head whipped up, with a slight look of horror as he noticed Yanagi’s presence, before Yukimura thrust his hips a little more and Sanada’s eyes snapped shut from pleasure. Yanagi wasn’t entirely sure why he’d stayed inside the room. He wasn’t sure what to do. Watch creepily and take the data of the exact degrees to which their bodies were curved, or the sounds of their skin slapping together or the exact set of their expressions? Or did he studiously avoid them and stare at his paperwork?

Well, he could hardly concentrate on his paperwork, not with the light like this, and not with the sounds of Yukimura moaning, softly. “Genichirou!” he called out, as he came and Sanada cried out, in something that sounded a little like ‘Seiichi’.

Yanagi looked back down at his papers, as they extricated themselves from each other and redressed in silence. Yanagi chanced a look back towards them, when the rustling of their military uniforms faded away, and apart from the slight sheen of sweat over their faces, and the glow of sated pleasure on both of their faces, they looked entirely presentable. 

“This isn’t the place to do that. Anybody could have walked in.” said Yanagi, evenly, and sternly. “You’re lucky that I got here before the Major General did.”

Yukimura’s eyes looked darkly amused. “We won’t repeat it.” he said, sweetly, though there was something sly about that answer, a slyness that Yanagi wasn’t sure he liked. Sanada made a slight movement towards Yukimura, and Yanagi watched the red flush over his cheeks. 

“It was a mistake.” said Sanada, stiffly, though the stern seriousness was taken away from his statement by the fact that he looked rather closer to the shade of a tomato. “It won’t happen again.”

Yanagi exhaled slowly. “Next time—”

“—we’ll ask you to join us first, don’t worry.” asked Yukimura, looking perfectly innocent, with his bright blue eyes shining. Yanagi coughed in surprise and felt his own cheeks burn with heat, as unwilling images of Sanada’s and Yukimura’s hands on him, came to mind.

“..I was going to say lock the door.” Yanagi said, as he attempted to shut down all inappropriate images from his mind. 

“But if we invite you, you’ll lock the door for us.” Yukimura countered, as if the answer was simple. He had this habit of doing that, a habit that Yanagi wasn’t altogether fond of from his commander. Yanagi glanced towards Sanada who looked even redder, if that was possible, but he just nodded towards Yanagi, in a simple acceptance of Yukimura’s statement. 

Yanagi looked down at his paperwork and exhaled again. “We can talk about this later, there is a stack of paperwork to finish after you all destroyed lower city, and you’re not worming your way out of doing your share, Seiichi. We’re not doing anything else until this is finished.”


	44. Superstitions

Rikkai had never been an overly superstitious team, but that was what made their little routines and traditions before matches just a little more precious to Yukimura. Being close to people for six years was something that was really undeniably powerful in terms of shaping how a person grew, and Yukimura treasured each of their impacts on his outlook on life. Of course, things like cheerfulness and determination were hard to attribute to one particular person, so it was easier to assimilate their various traditions into his pre-match preparation.

He couldn’t really shave his head before a match. He was known for his stunningly beautiful hair and looks, and Yukimura’s manager would have happily skewered him if he’d even dreamt of doing such a thing. However, he was perfectly capable of shaving his legs, and it was expected of him, as he did so many modeling opportunities to keep up with his sponsors. So most nights before big matches inevitably led Yukimura to the bathroom, leaning against the bathtub with a razor, cursing slightly at how difficult this was in a hotel. He didn’t regret it, there was a certain concentration honed from it that Yukimura always appreciated. 

Sugar was a staple part of Yukimura’s pre-meal plans, even if Yukimura wasn’t really a sweets person himself. It was important to fuel his first half of the match, and then the carbohydrates from the rest of the meal would kick in to give him slower stamina for the rest of it. It was a simple science, but Yukimura never went as far as eating a whole cake before games. That was a bit much. 

Yukimura wasn’t really the sort to trash-talk opponents. He preferred to act polite, and let his tennis tell his opponent what the slender blue-haired player really thought of him, but Yukimura always made sure to slip some sort of pun or comment about red or blood before the game started, either to his opponent or the cameras. Someone out there was smiling, surely. 

Knowing who your opponent was half of the struggle, honestly. Yukimura would never have the patience to fill a book with observations about each of the many players on the circuit, but Yukimura liked to watch at least one match of every opponent in advance, to see how they played and what things he would have to keep an eye out for. He’d learnt his lesson from several people on the stupidities of underestimating anybody. 

Honing your brain and your body before the match was crucial. It wasn’t just your limbs that needed to be warmed up, it was also your brain. He had a book of french crossword puzzles to try and do when he was waiting inside the dressing rooms, before the match started. Yukimura wasn’t very good at them, but he was getting better and better with every match played, and the more culture he learnt about France. He got every single poetry question right. Someone would appreciate that. 

There was something to be said about relieving tension before a match, and even if Yukimura wasn’t really mischievous in many ways, he liked to tease his opponents a little, in ways they wouldn’t expect. He didn’t go to the point of playing pranks, but messing with minds had always been more fun. Yukimura preferred the term ‘psychological torture’, of course, but some terminology stuck with you, even if you yourself preferred a different definition. 

Yukimura couldn’t play kendo before a match. That was strange, not to mention the fact that Yukimura still didn’t like the sport all that much, but he did like to draw doodles on the faces of opponents in magazines. It wasn’t quite to the same effect as slashing up straw dolls in advance, but Yukimura liked to think that there were better traits that he’d taken from him. 

For all of this, Yukimura still had his own style. That was the whole point of a homage. Twisting the rituals or others to suit you and your life. 

Adjusting his headband and with his jacket over his shoulders, Yukimura walked out towards the cheering crowd, waving out towards the audience, with a huge smile on his face. Show Time.


	45. poems and revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a yanagi/yagyuu request

Yagyuu frowned as he glanced down at his poem, tapping his fountain pen against his face as he glanced at the kanji that currently spilled across his page. He didn’t like writing traditionally in his notes or essays, but he ended up writing his poems and the Rikkai Records Book in traditional style (though the latter was entirely Sanada-kun’s fault).

_Against the window, the erstwhile rain patters, whispering of long-gone memories that you’d rather forget._

Hmm. Something in that didn’t quite sound right, perhaps in the rhythm. That was almost the problem with the majority of his poems that weren’t about real life, he had trouble evoking quite the right feeling. 

“Would ‘ _whisperings of suppressed memories, happily forgotten_ ’ work better?” murmured Yanagi-kun from over his shoulder and it took all of Yagyuu’s control to not jump at the sudden voice. He still didn’t understand how Yanagi managed to walk without footsteps left in his wake. 

“I think so.” said Yagyuu, evenly, as he neatly penned in the substitution, nodding happily at the cadence created by that. “I placed the most recent poetry anthology in the usual place, by the way. We got the new shipment, this morning.”

“Ahh, thank you.” said Yanagi-kun, as he took a seat next to Yagyuu, pulling out his maths homework and started to scribble out the answers in his reedy handwriting. “I’ll pick that up before History and I’ll finish it during her lecture.”

Yagyuu just shook his head, wondering how he’d managed to end up with three close friends that seemed to slack off in as many classes as they could get away with. Niou-kun kept up his cool image by never paying attention or participating in class, but always pestered Yagyuu about answers to review questions and homework in the evening, to keep up his grades. Yukimura-kun drifted through most of his classes in a daydream, unless it was in the arts or french. And then there was Yanagi-kun, who was the highest-scoring student in the school, knew it, and used it to his advantage. “How does sensei not–” 

“ –send me out of class? I have perfect scores on tests and homework. And she knows that I pay some attention in class, because I correct her when she’s wrong.” finished Yanagi-kun, his face perfectly humble. It made the statement sound even more facetious. “It doesn’t require much mental faculty to pay attention to her.”

Harsh, but sadly true. “Between you and Sanada-kun, no wonder sensei’s on the verge of a mental breakdown.” Yagyuu muttered, and Yanagi-kun laughed, lowly.

“If she doesn’t know how to teach her subject accurately, she shouldn’t be teaching in a high-quality school like Rikkai. It’s a kindness, really.” Yanagi-kun murmured, quietly. 

And people said that Yanagi-kun didn’t belong in the Three Demons. Clearly they didn’t talk to him enough. “And when do you think she’ll quit?” Yagyuu said, as he tucked away the poem and pulled out his maths homework as well. Clearly, he wasn’t going to be able to finish that now. At least maths didn’t require much effort. 

“Genichirou wants her to leave a good month before the entrance exams. But she’s likely to persevere until then, at least.” Yanagi-kun said, a slight frown on his face. “Unless someone stages an intervention…” His look turned pensive and before he said anything, Yagyuu pressed a finger to his lips. 

“Whatever you’re planning, I want plausible deniability.” said Yagyuu. He’d chuckle about it later, in private, once his position as head of Morality Council was not in danger. His father would hang, draw and quarter him if he lost the prestigious position so quickly. 

“I’ll talk to Niou then.” said Yanagi, his lips moving against Yagyuu’s finger, with a slightly amused look. He stuffed his homework back inside his bag, and disappeared from the classroom as quickly as he’d entered. Yagyuu just sighed. Why did he have friends like this? As malleable as water, flowing in whatever direction circumstances moulded them into, with a one-minded determination. 

…on the bright side, he now had another line for his poem.


	46. determined game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a jackal/akaya request

“Serve again!” yelled Akaya, his forehead pouring sweat. The score was 17-19 to Jackal, but Akaya seemed unwilling to give up yet. Jackal wasn’t quite sure why he’d let Akaya persuade him into playing a set of 21 games, but there had been some cuteness in there and begging and blackmail about that one girlfriend he wasn’t technically supposed to have. In either case, it wasn’t really that much of a difficulty for Jackal, he’d played longer and under worse weather conditions back home in Brazil, but with every game, Akaya’s feet become weaker and his eyes became more desperate. 

“We can stop now.” said Jackal, easily and the roar of outrage that met that statement was so ferocious that Jackal actually stepped backwards, despite being separated by the entire length of the court. For such a cute kid, he was really terrifying at times. He served, arching into a long, powerful shot, that would be difficult for Akaya to return in his current state of exhaustion. The sooner this game ended, the better. 

Still, Akaya dived after the serve, pushing his feet with a dogged stubbornness, until he returned the shot, with a deceptively weak backhand. But Jackal was ready, and he flicked his wrist into a smooth drop shot. He couldn’t get to that, surely. But Akaya surprised him again, as he skidded forward on his knees, ignoring the awful sound his skin made against the artificial ground. In shock, Jackal let the return past him. What. This wasn’t even an official game. 

“Break. Now.” sad Jackal, as Akaya stood up, and the blood poured from his shredded knees. But the kid barely even seemed to notice. 

“Serve again, damnit!” he roared and Jackal shook his head.

“You’re going to bandage and disinfect that wound now. And take a breather.” he said, sternly, but Akaya tossed his hair and tilted his chin up defiantly. 

“Make me.” he growled. Jackal frowned at him, but didn’t move, as he watched the blood well up against Akaya’s knees. “Finish the game, senpai.” Akaya gasped out, as he limped back to the service line. Jackal squeezed his eyes together, but stalked back towards to service line himself. 

Two more games. With a deep breath, Jackal launched forward into his strongest serve. No mercy. In all honesty, it was childishly simple to wrest those two games from Akaya’s screaming hands. Akaya had thrashed him in the normal length for a one set, or even a two set match. But he still wasn’t ready for a brutal, hard fought three-set length match. 

When Jackal smashed the ace past Akaya in the last game, the younger boy dropped to the ground, howling in fury and regret. Jackal dropped his racquet and leapt over the net without pausing, as he pulled Akaya up, and dragged him to the bench. He shoved his own waterbottle at Akaya, and rummaged through his backpack for the firstaid kit. He wasn’t sure he had enough bandages for both of Akaya’s legs though. 

In the time that it took for Jackal to find the bandages and alcohol, Akaya had completely slumped against the bench, the red tint leaving his skin, and the sheer fury that had overtaken him near the end of the match, subsided. Jackal pressed a hand to Akaya’s forehead, carefully, and Akaya’s eyes fluttered open at the cool touch. 

“I’m going to beat you next time, senpai. Just you wait. I’m going to practice so much and get so much better!” he said. “I won’t be a burden once we reach high school. I’m going to be better than everybody!” he said, as Jackal knelt down and removed his shirt. It was sopping and useless anyway, and he poured some alcohol against one of the drier sides, before dabbing it against Akaya’s leg.

The younger boy swore loudly and gritted his teeth, as Jackal worked his way around the wounds, apologizing quietly as he cleaned the dirt and the dust from the wounds. At least the Rikkai courts were cleaned daily by the freshmen, or this would have been ten times worse. “You shouldn’t push yourself like this.” Jackal said, with a frown. “Victory in an official game is all very well, but this is practise.”

Akaya’s face tightened and he looked away. “I’m fed up of losing, senpai.” he said, quietly. “I lose against everyone who matters. I’ve got to try hard in practise, or you’ll all just keep running past me. I’m going to beat you someday, and I’m going to take every measure to get there.”

“How about systematic, regular stamina practise, instead of insanity like that?” asked Jackal, with a stern, disappointed tone. He didn’t really do it very well, that was more Yanagi’s forte. 

“You went along with it.” said Akaya, with a mischievous smile, that was cut off as Jackal tightened the bandage around his left knee.

“Because you’re scary, when you’re like that. You’re not cute at all.” he said, prodding Akaya’s forehead, sternly, and Akaya laughed and pulled his best puppy face.

“Are you saying this isn’t cute, senpai?” he asked, and Jackal’s only response was to tighten the bandages. Akaya choked and frowned down at Jackal’s bald head. “That hurt! Buy me ice-cream, pleeeeeeaaasseee. I’m so hoooottt.” Jackal sighed, and didn’t say anything. There was no use protesting, Akaya always won, anyway.


	47. notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a niou/sanada request (I'm really bad at them, this is so short)

‘Move your stuff.” Sanada barked, as he stood next to Niou’s desk, backpack slung over one shoulder. Niou lifted his legs off the table where he’d been lightly napping, one at a time, with a mock long-suffering sigh. He took his own sweet time to shift his stack of tall, engineering books, whistling softly under his breath as he did so. By the time he finished, Sanada looked quite tetchy and Niou smirked, softly. 

“Something the matter, Sa-na-da~?” he sung, winding himself around Sanada’s neck as the taller man took a seat next to him. 

“Your existence.” Sanada said, shortly and Niou grinned, with a quick, sharp laugh. Sanada was getting better at this retort stuff, after a semester dealing with Niou in their advanced maths class.

“How cold.” said Niou, with a mock pout.”Here I was going to give you my notes for the last class that you missed, but you know, maybe I won’t if you hate me so…”

Sanada’s glare was phenomenal in response. Damn, even worse than Yagyuu, that was something. “Don’t mess around. I had to deal with Mizuki for an hour and a half, I’m not in the mood.” he said, shortly, and Niou removed his hands from around Sanada’s shoulders at that. Ouch.

“That’s rough.” Niou said, propping his head in his hand instead, to watch as Sanada neatly sharpened his pencil and prepped his notebook. “Which class, Lit?”

Sanada nodded, grimly, with a rather large vein starting to develop near the top of his forehead with the memory. “Only two more weeks until it’s over.” he muttered and Niou’s eyes gleamed.

“Hmmm, you know I can make that time shorter.” he said, innocently. In middle school, Sanada would have probably slapped him for making any sort of implication that Sanada couldn’t deal with anything that came his way. Instead, Sanada turned and gave Niou a speculative look, his brown eyes looking at Niou deeply. At any other time, Niou would have made a joke about his hot body and whether Sanada liked what he saw, but he refrained from ruining the mood, and just raised an eyebrow, in response to the silent look.

“For what price?” he asked, finally, as he turned towards the front of the room, as their professor arrived. 

“Free~ You’re my favourite person, after all.” teased Niou, as he leaned forward to pinch Sanada’s cheek, and wiggled it, with a grin. “Maybe a little more cheer about our shared classes, I know you love them.”

Sanada swatted away Niou’s hands, but didn’t retaliate with his ruler, as Niou had been expecting. “You’re kidding yourself.” he said, sternly, but the effect was ruined by the slightly more amused tint to his lips. Oh, that was progress. Maybe by their graduation, Sanada might even smile about seeing Niou. But that was probably a pipe-dream.


	48. don't mind them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yukisana request (finally, familiar territory lol)

“I am going to murder them.” Yukimura said, as he slammed the door behind him, his eyebrows pulled down furiously as he stalked towards the couch, throwing his bags into the corner. Wordlessly, Sanada adjusted his position on the couch to make room for Yukimura, and Yukimura flopped into his side. 

“The idiots wanted to restart the whole project now, because they didn’t think that the shades of colour looked right. Well, maybe if they’d actually done any work the whole of this project, they might have been able to change that at the beginning, but of course, since I did everything, I don’t care what their opinions are. I want to murder them. Niou offered and you know, I was this close from saying yes.” Yukimura ranted, as he buried himself into Sanada’s side, his legs extending over Sanada’s lap, pushing Sanada’s history books to the floor. 

“Just don’t work with them anymore. Submit a solo project.” Sanada said, as he tightened his arms around Yukimura’s shoulders, rubbing a rough circle into the tight muscles near Yukimura’s upper back. Yukimura made a noise of satisfaction and nuzzle closer to Sanada. 

“Wish I could.” he said, with a sigh. “But sensei said that these groups were final and there would be no switching or changing the way it works. Whatever. I’m almost done with the credits, and I can go back to the circuit in January.”

Sanada said nothing, just rolled his hands down Yukimura’s back, slowly massaging out the tension of the day from his best friend’s back. Yukimura’s eyes fluttered shut and he hummed, happily.

“Why can’t everybody be more like you? The world would be so much better.” said Yukimura, as he shifted a bit to give Sanada better access to his back. Sanada’s fingers reached the edge of Yukimura’s trousers and teased at the ends, gently, but just as Yukimura started to look slightly mischievous, Sanada removed his hands, and picked up his abandoned history textbook from the floor again. 

“Test tomorrow.” explained Sanada, as he rifled through the pages for the chapter he’d been studying. Yukimura gave him an unimpressed look and pinched the book from Sanada’s grasp, throwing it over his shoulder without a care.

“You know that shit better than your professor. There are better things you could be doing.” Yukimura said, as he moved from Sanada’ss side, to straddle Sanada’s lap.

“My math homework?” asked Sanada, settling his hands on Yukimura’s hips, underneath Yukimura’s shirt, and rubbed a slow, lazy circle into Yukimura’s soft, supple skin.

Yukimura didn’t even humour that response with an answer, leaning straight in for a breath-stealing kiss. Sanada leant into it and smiled, slightly.


	49. dance with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Please listen to [Zion.T’s “Zero Gravity”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P6smRvfNDL4) for a full feeling of the drabble)

There was a slow jazz playing through the speakers and Sanada took a sip of coffee, as sunlight streamed through the empty shop. It had been a nice day out, and they had sold well. Peaceful, too, without the usual crowd of shouting teens. He took a another sip of tea, as he felt the strong chi of Yukimura creep up behind him, before Yukimura wrapped his arms around Sanada’s waist and pressed a kiss to the nape of Sanada’s neck. Yukimura’s arms were firm and strong and Sanada’s skin hummed from the contact. 

“Dance with me.” demanded Yukimura, whispered the request into the hollow between Sanada’s shoulder blades.

Sanada raised an eyebrow, but he was used to Yukimura’s odd whims. Besides, there was nobody else around to see them making fools of themselves. He loosened himself from Yukimura’s grip until they settled into a loose dancing position, with Yukimura’s arms looped around his neck, and Sanada’s fingers resting on the curve of Yukimura’s waist. He wasn’t a very good dancer, not really, but he could make an effort, at least, to keep up with Yukimura’s graceful feet. Yukimura smiled, softly, as he hummed the tune of the radio’s song under his breath, as they swayed across the room, pulling apart only to twirl Yukimura around. Yukimura’s smile was soft and contented and pleased and Sanada couldn’t take his eyes off Yukimura and the lines of his body, as he swayed. 

The song swelled through crests and falls, and Yukimura threw in a light skip, which threw off Sanada’s rhythm, almost sending both of them to the ground. Yukimura only laughed, though, delightedly, and made Sanada twirl him again, his blue hair spinning out around him. 

Sanada only breathed softly as the song faded away and Yukimura stilled. With a languid stretch, Yukimura pushed up to his tiptoes to press a kiss to Sanada’s nose, gentle and soft. “One more?” he asked, slipping away to turn off the next, loud song on the radio. It was to neither of their tastes. 

“Mmm.” said Sanada, not asking where the music was going to come from, as he looped himself back around Yukimura again, happy to have Yukimura’s hands on him. Yukimura hummed a soft melody under his breath that Sanada knew from schooltimes and he recognized the expectant look in Yukimura’s bright, blue eyes. Slowly, he started to sing the baritone croon, as he twirled Yukimura around, his voice was a little shaky. But who wouldn’t shake at the full force of Yukimura’s pleasure?

Yukimura’s shoulders were loose, and his eyelashes fluttered shut as Sanada continued to sing the song and sway across the empty shop floor. The coffee cooled on the sidetable, away from the revelries.


	50. chocolates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryoma/Tomo (I don't even know)

“Ryoma-sama!” came the loud, obnoxious voice from in front of him. Ryoma blinked awake and glanced up in front of him, blearily. He had been enjoying his nap on the roof, damnit. The sun spiralled above his head fading in and out of sight as he blinked himself awake, against his will. 

“What?” he asked, tetchily, staring up at the over-eager face of Osakada Tomoka. From up close, she sorta looked like monkey king from Hyotei, but happier. He didn’t ever think he’d see Atobe ever actually smile instead of smirk like he was the cat that got the cream. 

“Happy Valentines Day!” she chirped cheerfully, shoving a box of chocolates into his face, almost breaking his nose with how much energy she gave it to him with. In an attempt to protect his face, Ryoma scrambled backwards, and fell off the bench he was sitting on, with a large thump. 

“Ow.” he muttered, as he rubbed his head and lower back. That had hurt, goddamn! He could have been sleeping, instead he was falling off benches and staring at female versions of Monkey Kings, with that retarded beauty mark. Tomoka looked slightly chagrined, but she held the box out again, like offering a toy towards a cat to try and get it to calm down. 

“It’s your favourite brand. Sakuno said that you liked belgian chocolate.” she said, with a cheerful smile, and Ryoma stared at her, with slight confusion. Her face was undeniably pretty with that smile on it, instead of a scowl about a hammer of justice, or the concentrated frown when she was cheering at the sidelines of his tennis matches. It was weird to see, like the sun had come out of Tomoka’s face. 

It was sort of hard to ignore the fact that Tomoka existed, not with a voice like a foghorn, nor with the huge posters of his face, remarkably well-drawn for how little time she must have had to prepare them. Tomoka was a loud, obnoxious figure everywhere in daily school life. School Council member (somehow), Art Club Ace (understandable) and one of the most ardent ‘fans’ of his, Tomoka permeated his life. She always managed to invite herself to the sessions of tennis that he and Ryuzaki occasionally had, which had been annoying at first, but had been a good way to draw Ryuzaki out of her shell, and make her play with more intensity. She was good at that, that much was noticeable. 

She was immensely talented herself, but her loudness and talent rubbed off on other people. In class debates, her loud voice provoked other loud voices, until everyone single person, no matter how shy was itching to participate. Whenever she cheered on the Seigaku Team, she always bolstered them with spirit. And her artwork and her friendship with Ryuzaki made Ryuzaki much more snarky and tolerable. 

He’d never really paid her much mind, she was just another fan who saw Echzien Ryoma, the tennis player. Still, it was a remarkable amount of thought, to have gone to the effort of buying his favourite type of chocolate for him. “Domo.” he said, accepting the chocolate, feeling a little empty without the hat to tip. 

Tomoka giggled, cheerily, and her cheeks were suspiciously red. Ryoma pushed himself to his feet and yawned, stretching upwards. “You don’t have to keep saying Ryoma-sama, you know.” he said, as he wandered away from the roof. “Ryoma-kun works, I’m not some feudal lord.”

The squee of excitement he heard emanating from the roof was deafening. Ryoma winced, and rubbed at his ear, but he couldn’t help a small smile from touching his face.


	51. knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YukiNiou (one of my very favourite pairings)

Niou flicked the knife in his hand, narrowly missing being stabbed as he caught the knife on the edge of his knuckles and pushed the handle back up into the air. The silver metal glinted in the air, whirled around once, twice, and flew straight back down, hilt towards the table. Niou waited until the last moment, until the tip of the recently sharpened knife was a hairsbreadth from the pronounced veins on his hand, until the pulse in his ears was at the maximum amount, before slipping his hand back and his fingers open. 

With a loud, whippy sound, the knife quivered, where it was sheathed in the grain of the old, wooden table, in the valley between Niou’s ring finger and pinky. Almost. 

Niou’s tongue came out to lap at the small wound on his lip, bitten from the anticipation of waiting for the disaster to almost happen (but almost had always been the key word for Niou). Somehow, other pleasures in life had slowly faded over time. Things like watching the look of pure fury spread across people’s faces when they were pranked, the rush of hiding from authority in grotty staircases which still smelt of last night’s drunken escapades, the simple pleasures of skipping class to throw large lumps of bread at fat, waddling ducks, none of them made his blood sing. 

Not like the risk of bodily harm. He’d used darts in the past, or small, blow-dart guns, when he’d ran away to the circus for a month, or had made excursions to the local fairground, nightly. But somehow, the danger that trembled through the steel and sheen of the knife was more exhilarating than any other physical thing.

Almost there. Would he feel purely content if he ever let the knife pierce his skin, he wondered, as he watched the light stream hit the edge of the blade, and scatter across the table’s mottled surface. Niou’s tongue stilled on his lip, and the small droplets of blood pooled under his swollen, chapped lips, dripping down the sharp edges of his chin. Just as the blood was about to succumb to gravity’s pull and land on his crisp, tailored suit, Niou lifted a thumb to swipe it away, leaving a slightly coppery smell in the air. Hmm.

There was a click at the door, and Niou smirked slightly, in wry amusement, as Yukimura swept into the room, with the determined stride and slightly harried look around the edges of his eyes. “Come on, we’ll be late.” snapped Yukimura, as he adjusted the crisply ironed jacket on his shoulders, and ruffled his perpetually messy hair at the mirror in the wall. He was like a whirlwind, every time he came in, and he was something that was perhaps just a little more interesting than the knife. 

The dust motes settled a little around Niou’s shoulders and Niou just shrugged. “Relax a little, bossman.” murmured Niou, letting his tongue lap up all of the last tinges of blood, leaving his face as pale and pristine as before. “We’ll only be late if you drive like a teenage girl again.” Niou rolled back his shoulders, with exaggerated rigidness. 

Yukimura glanced at him, his gaze hot and slightly challenging, as he swept around firmly, his chin tilting upwards to glance at Niou’s appearance, judgmentally. “Just because I don’t drive like the speed limit is a suggestion, instead of the law…”

Niou grinned, foxishly, as he yanked the knife out of the wood, relishing in the creak the table gave him in response, and the harsh, ragged edges left in the wake of the knife. With a light toss into the air to watch the spiralling trajectory of the heavy handle, Niou caught the blade between his fingertips, feeling the cool slide of the metal against his thin fingers for one more time, before slipping the knife into the back of his trousers, where it would be hidden by the long coattails of his jacket. “But it is a suggestion for people like you, bossman.”

Yukimura smirked, smug and self-assured as he met Niou’s gaze without fear. “It is rather beneficial to at least keep up pretenses, dear Masaharu.” he purred, deceptively softly, before he swept out of the room, leaving the smell of grass and petrichor in his wake. 

Heh. Not just the temptation of physical harm, he supposed. The humming in his ears right now was solely because of Yukimura, and that was probably more healthy than playing with knives. He would take the metaphorical knife sheathed in silk, for now, before resorting to anything too drastic, yet.


	52. morning routines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for genikripsies, my no.1 alpha fan XD

There was a loud bang on the table and Yukimura stirred blearily, from the papers and blueprints scattered around his face. Sanada stood up above him, holding a rather large mug of coffee and a stern expression. Yukimura pushed away his tangled hair from his face and rubbed at his eyes, smiling lopsidedly at Sanada as he stretched upwards. “What time is it? he asked, inbetween a yawn, and he reached for the coffee mug. Sanada moved up and away, and this made Yukimura more alert than the coffee would have. 

“How long did you spend up?” asked Sanada, and Yukimura scowled. He hated being answered with another question. It was a pet peeve of his that came from hospital nurses who never fully answered his questions and kept asking about his physical state, instead. 

“Evidently, a long a time if I’m asleep here, think a little bit, Genichirou.” Yukimura snapped, as he reached up for the mug. “What time is it?”

“7am.” responded Sanada, reluctantly, the frown only getting deeper as he finally handed the mug to Yukimura, piping hot, just like Yukimura liked it. With a long, deep sip, Yukimura cleared a little bit of room on the table and indicated that Sanada should take a seat as well. 

The coffee helped make him a little less irritable, and as Sanada settled next to him, Yukimura leant on his broad shoulders, letting his eyes flicker shut for a bit. His dreams had been filled with screaming and mountains on fire, and it was a little difficult to rouse himself from that. “Should have woken me up earlier.”

“You needed the sleep.” said Sanada, evenly, as one of his hands came up to pull through and smooth out Yukimura’s tangled hair. “Besides, you get ready for class in a hurry, anyway, it doesn’t matter if you get half an hour less.”

Yukimura just hummed, in neither assent nor dissatisfaction. No matter how early he got up, he did end up rushing, because of easy distractions in Renji and Sanada. He allowed himself a couple of moments against Sanada’s warm skin, feeling the strong heartbeat through his oldest friend’s body, before he pushed himself up and gathered the papers, setting the empty coffee cup away to the side.

“Did you finish at least? asked Sanada, as he got up from the chair and pulled out his own bag to sling over his shoulder. He looked a little tired but ready for his own long day at school. 

“Mmmhmm, I finished all of the final sketches. I just have to make the statue today. So I probably won’t see you two until too late.” Yukimura said, as he looked around the messy apartment. Where was Renji, anyway? Had he already gone to class?

“Early lab duty.” Sanada said, in answer to the silent question. “He said that today was going to be a long day for all of us, so we should all head to Marui’s place after we’re done, since he’s not cooking.” The black hat slipped over Sanada’s ears and sat snugly there.

Yukimura just nodded and rubbed at his eyes. “Right.” he said, placing the stack of papers down on the table. “You off now?”

Sanada nodded, with a wry smile. “7:30am classes with the Criminal Law Professor doesn’t make me entirely too fond of him.” he said, dryly. “Half the class are half asleep and the other half are blatantly sleeping on their laptops, so I am the only one left awake to answer his questions.”

“You picked law enforcement as a major.” said Yukimura, with a grin, as he weaved his way through to Sanada. “Nevertheless, you should get a token of luck to get you through the day.”

Sanada raised an eyebrow as Yukimura swung his arms around Sanada’s neck. but he rested his hands on Yukimura’s hips and they softly kissed, Yukimura’s fingers running to tangle with Sanada’s hair, dislodging the hat, as subtly as he could. As he pulled away from Sanada, he propped the hat on his head. 

“What do you think?” Yukimura asked, making a couple of poses. “My good luck token from you?”

“It doesn’t suit you.” deadpanned Sanada, as he took the hat off Yukimura’s hair and settled it back on his own head. “Stick with your hairbands.”

Yukimura stuck out his tongue at Sanada. “Go catch your bus, go on, you spoilsport.” he said, throwing one of the cushions from their couch at Sanada. Sanada caught it, and threw it back to Yukimura, with an exasperated look of fondness. 

“Bye, Seiichi.” he said, as he grabbed his keys and left the house quickly. Yukimura watched him go for a moment, a fond smile on his face for a bit, before he picked up his coffee cup and the papers and started to get ready for his own day in the studio.


	53. And Life Goes On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a very tragic yanasana written to keep Sumiya awake one night.

A crack of thunder rippled through the sky, a grumbling sound of protest, and one by one, water started to drip down from the heavens, until it was a complete downpour. The raindrops splattered around the cold, muddy ground, and the grass strips bent over backwards, under the force of the rain. Yanagi, who was crouched against the mud, in a tight ball, just hunched over a little more, his lashes fluttering shut against his pale cheeks. There were droplets rolling down into his back, through the gap between his collar and his skin, and it only added to the feeling of his heart. His fingers ran over the engraved name again, feeling the smooth marble underneath his fingers again.

It was still difficult to believe he was gone. Difficult to believe that his strong fingers and his reluctant smile and his off-key humming in the morning as he made coffee would never be around again. That the obnoxious cologne his brother had bought him and that he used out of obligation, would never clog up the bathroom, and that his apology notes written in perfect calligraphy and rhyming meter would never show up outside of Yanagi’s room. That his strong presence when Yanagi worked late nights or his back against Yanagi’s own on missions, would no longer exist, would no longer soothe, would no longer strengthen him.

He had been the best out of all of them in the end, and his absence was like a gaping chasm. 

Yanagi swallowed heavily, as another crack of thunder pealed across the sky. He would not have wished to be interred somewhere, deep under the cold, hard, barren earth. He would have wanted to be burned, and for the ashes to rest on Yanagi’s mantleplace forever, but sometimes their job didn’t leave them with choices. It had been this or scientific experimentation, and as much as Yanagi wanted his own body to go to science after his death, he couldn’t do it to Sanada. The final utility seemed too clinical, too cold for someone as warm and passionate as Sanada. But this was just as bad in its own way. Sanada was buried underneath the grave of another. The gravestone under which he was buried did not even carry his own name. After the rest of Rikkai were dead, who would remember Sanada for them? Who would carry his name, when he was buried like this?

Yanagi’s eyes squeezed together tightly and he shook slightly. The rain started to pour around him, with more force and Yanagi was aware of the colour starting to run from his cheap jacket, into the grass around him, and onto the white, pure marble, now stained with black. He was sobbing and he couldn’t even stop himself from the pain wracking through him. It hadn’t hit him, not for a long time, not through the final mission, not when Sanada had actually taken the bullet, not when he had cleaned up the body himself. Not until now, not until he could never touch Sanada’s skin again.

A shadow cast over Yanagi, as he sobbed, and he noticed after a few moments, that he no longer felt the force of the storm pushing him down into the muddy, smelly ground. Yanagi did not need to turn around to know who was holding the umbrella over him. For all of his cruelty in many ways, he knew how to be considerate when necessary. There were no words about how Sanada wouldn’t have wanted this. They both knew that Sanada wouldn’t have wanted this fracture and this helplessness, but that wasn’t going to stop Yanagi from grieving his loss, and Yukimura had no necessity to be cruel to Yanagi by denying him that. 

There were no comforting words of how he understood, because despite Yukimura’s lengthy acquaintance with Sanada, the slender young man did not understand the pain of losing someone dearer to you than life. Yukimura did not attach himself to people so deeply, wrap himself into the other’s essence until they were a part of each other. Yukimura profoundly touched those he met and made them his, but it never worked mutually, and that was why he was different. Stronger than Yanagi.

It took a few more desperate gasps before Yanagi could even pull his head up, a little and take himself to his knees. He tried to pull himself up, but he just fell back, until he was sprawled back in the mud. It stuck to him and pulled him down. He was tied to the ground. If he stayed here, he was the closest he could get to Sanada without actually dying. Could he stay here forever, against the wind, against the storm, feeling the embrace of the Earth, urging him to leave the miseries of this world? But the umbrella had not moved and from his position here, Yanagi could see Yukimura’s impassive face, where he held the umbrella, and a small bouquet of bright red flowers. Yukimura bent down to place the flowers against the grave of the unimportant person buried here and Sanada.

“You were built for passion. Lilies and roses never suited you, they’re too passive and condolence, not when you died with fire and brimstone in your veins. I wanted to get you sunflowers, but they weren’t growing any. It’s not quite the right season for that.” said Yukimura, quietly, with a dry smile on his face, as he stepped right over Yanagi, ignoring his prone body entirely. Yanagi’s eyes flickered shut. “Your papers are all messed up. Yagyuu said he’d take over, but I think he’s not going to be quite as efficient as you were, since he has medic duties also.” Yukimura continued. “Things are different here, but somehow, I think we’ll keep going. The people who killed you are dead, annihilated to the ground, even more nonexistent than you. So you can rest easy in that, Genichirou. Sleep well, and please don’t eat our souls in disquiet. We all did our duty, and I will not forget your sacrifice.” Yukimura said, his voice dry and filled with quiet, mild amusement. His head dropped in respect for a moment, before he stepped right back over Yanagi, his coattails sweeping over Yanagi’s muddied jacket.

“Your duty is not yet done, Yanagi.” said Yukimura, pausing to leave his only comment to Yanagi, before he swept back to the car waiting for him. Yanagi’s eyes flickered over his face and something shifted in him, like a piece of his broken heart attempting to wrap itself together flimsily. The rain continued to pour against him, but he could not feel the cold anymore, or even the wetness. 

He was entirely sunk low and half dead. The only way now was up, for his coward body could not let him join Sanada in death. Yanagi sobbed, but his second attempt to get up was more successful. Despite it all, he was still alive. He’d lost him, but he was still alive, drowning in pain and swallowed by emptiness and loss. but he was alive. And he could keep going, until his own parting shot came, until the final tendril of the earth came to claim him, to take him to where Sanada waited. He pulled off his jacket, draped it over the gravestone, and left, slinking away from the graveyard, until his silhouette had disappeared into the rain.


	54. Basorexia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yanagi's beautiful and distracting, but Yukimura thinks she can forget that.

Her hair was falling in her face again. Yukimura sighed, softly, and rolled her eyes as she took a seat opposite Yanagi, who was hunched over some tome the size of her head. “Forget your hairties again?” she asked, lightly, extracting her sketchpad to carefully capture the way that Yanagi looked at that moment, and the way that her long, straight hair pooled across the surface of the book and the table. 

“Only five times in four years, I’d say that’s impressive.” Yanagi said, evenly, not looking up from her book. “Better than your track record with your regulation skirts.”

Yukimura made a dismissive sound, as she erased the ribbon on Yanagi’s shirt to try again. It curved more at the sides. “I leave it at home on purpose. It looks ugly. Who cares about the length?”

“Administration.” Yanagi deadpanned, looking up, ruining Yukimura’s drawing. With a slight click of her tongue, Yukimura scanned the drawing. Hmm. Good enough. She’d got the hair and the clothes hunching. She just needed to replicate the face and that was easy enough to do. 

“Renge, you know that they don’t really care. What are they going to do, suspend the reason the girls tennis team have reached Nationals for almost five years in a row?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, waiting for the slightly displeased expression that Yanagi got when Yukimura bragged a bit too much. Still, the expression never came, as Yanagi returned to her book.

Yukimura pulled an annoyed face, and pushed back a few, wavy baby-hair strands that had escaped from her loose ponytail. “What’s so interesting about the book, anyway?” she demanded, leaning forward, craning over to try and see. The book, however, was in Chinese, a fact which made Yukimura more than a little frustrated. 

And Yanagi seemed content to not explain anything. Yukimura sighed, and removed her feet from the shoes, before prodding Yanagi’s inner thigh with her toe. That got Yanagi’s attention, as she jumped a little, her eyes opening to focus on Yukimura with slight shock. To Yukimura’s surprise, Yanagi’s cheeks tinged red as she continued to look Yukimura in the face. It suited her pale features and Yukimura leant in a bit closer, intently studying the slightly embarrassed expression Yanagi had.

“It’s about, uh, one of the bureaucrats in the Ming Dynasty Court…not very interesting in terms of story, but there are some nice details…” Yanagi coughed lightly and looked down at the book again, something more than slightly suspicious. 

Yukimura raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you enlighten me, anyway?” There was definitely something to it. Yanagi didn’t easily get embarrassed by Yukimura touching her, not like Chihiro, so something in the book combined with Yukimura’s touch….

When Yanagi was quiet again, as her eyes flickered down to the page, Yukimura felt the truth hit her. “Oh, it’s a sex scene, isn’t it? If they even write about that sort of stuff properly. I mean Japanese courtiers couldn’t even write about love scenes without using a billion euphemisms…” The Tale of Genji had one that had been somewhat tedious to traverse. “How naughty of you, hmm? In the school library. Imagine of someone caught you.”

Yanagi coughed again, but she was smiling and Yukimura grinned back at her. The picture of a flushing Yanagi was too cute to not document in the sketchbook, so Yukimura carefully drew in the soft curve of Yanagi’s chin, and the way that the blush peeked out from beneath the sections of hair. It was a pretty effect on paper, but somehow, Yanagi looked even more beautiful blushing in person. 

“My nose is a little more to the left, isn’t it?” asked Yanagi, suddenly, and Yukimura looked up from her paper, a little self-consciously. Yanagi’s eyebrows quirked, with a clear message there about payback and looking over at other’s people’s work. Yukimura lifted her hands, with a cool acknowledgement of the point. Yanagi leant back, with a slightly satisfied look on her face, her nose scrunching upturned a little bit, and it was too much to resist. 

Yukimura let the sketchbook gently close as she leant forward and pressed a kiss to Yanagi’s nose. Yanagi exhaled softly and Yukimura, tossing a quick look down the stacks around them, leant forward until she was almost clambering over the table to kiss Yanagi properly, letting their lips brush against each other, sensuously. 

“I think we’re a bit better than that book, right” asked Yukimura pressing a kiss to the side of Yanagi’s mouth, trialing down her chin. Yanagi’s skin flushing was even more incentive to keep kissing her, until it was time to head out.


	55. old flames and new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The waiting game is the worst part of this, Niou thinks.

Niou sat, at his couch, playing with his lighter, absent-mindedly, watching the flame burn and disappear, intermittantly, with a nervous anticipation lacing his actions. They played the waiting game now, and everybody unanimously agreed that this was the worst part of any mission. The anxiety curled at his gut and fogged up the air around them, like in a bathroom after a too-hot shower. Except without the pleasure of the shower. 

By the ornate mirror, Yukimura exhaled heavily, leaning in precariously close to the mirror, checking his eyeliner for the fifteenth time, making sure it was completely straight and flawless as his persona demanded. 

“Yanagi’d be pissed to see you doubting his research on the make up style of newly weds.” Niou called lazily. 

Yukimura didn’t turn around. “I’m not doubting his research, I’m doubting my basic motor control.” he responded, voice already at the husky alto of a woman. He licked his lips, and tucked a strand of stray hair behind his ear, fluttering his fake eyelashes heavily at the mirror, once more, for good luck.

Niou watched Yukimura, lazily. He was always fascinating to admire, even when doing seemingly mundane things. Yukimura didn’t have much in common with imitators like Yagyuu and Niou; he didn’t have the dexterity and fluidity of self to become anyone and anything with a little bit of observation. Yukimura was too grounded in self and appearance to be able to give up on his internal pride and deign to take on the character of someone else who actually existed. 

But Yukimura understood people intuitively, and spent just as much time on observation as Niou did. He understood which particular mannerisms spoke to people’s emotions and understood how different characters and personalities used those mannerisms, to his advantage. He understood what people typically coded as feminine and what people typically coded as masculine, and blended them together easily, in a superb display, like weapons to wielded as he saw fit. Facets upon facets, and at angles which shouldn’t have existed but did. Like a never-ending fractal, twisting and bending into infinity, constantly multiplying and changing. Enough to make him a new, unrecognizable person each time, unless you were carefully watching. An awestriking sight. 

And Niou had a front-row seat to this all. 

“It’s fixed, innit?” Niou asked, clicking the lighter shut, and stowing it unceremoniously into a back pocket of his suit. “That’s what the surgeries did.”

Yukimura just hummed, noncommitally and started to tug at his tight dress, a significant look into the mirror, meant for Niou. Live the cover, right right. Mrs. Mayuki Tanaka had never been anywhere near a surgery room in her life. For the scarce amount of spy work that Yukimura actually performed, he sure took all of the rules to heart when it suited him. Like he’d cared about the cover five minutes ago. Niou yawned and glanced out the window again, towards the building opposite them. Still no call from Yagyuu; what was taking him so long? 

“Yamamoto-san?” asked Yukimura, as his piercing gaze turned to the window as well. “Do you see any benefit in attending this meeting?” The killer heels shifted uncomfortably, but Niou got the impression that Yukimura was drawing attention to that, on purpose. Right, Mrs. Mayuki was supposed to be unhappy about this arrangement, unhappy about bringing herself to public–as when she should be. It only served to further incriminate Yamamoto and serve their organization’s purpose. 

The real Yamamoto was knocked-out in a closet somewhere, and by the time he resumed his position, all hopes for regaining his career’s potency would be finished. If Yagyuu would bloody well hurry up and cue them! “It’ll be fun, don’t you worry.” he said, slipping into the rich accent of the affluent man he was impersonating for the week. 

“If you say so.” she said, fluttering her eyelashes and demurely letting her gaze fall down to the floor. Niou, couldn’t help but give Yukimura an admiring once-over. Perfectly shy, and nervous, but bashfully ready, just like the married mistress of a congressman would be, about attending an intimate party with him. He’d gotten even the light giveaways like the sheen of sweat along the curve of his shoulders going….or was that genuine tension?

Niou frowned. It was hard to tell sometimes, when Yukimura was such a bloody good actor, what was real and what was fake. 

Still, this was an easy job, as far as jobs went. Which was why Sanada had even relented to let Niou steal Yukimura away for a bit, to put him straight on the front lines of the mission. Niou relished in this, and he was sure that as different as Yukimura was, he too would appreciate the thrill of a good heist. 

“Cheer up, babydoll.” Niou said, slinking in a bit closer to snake his arm around his waist, possessively. “Nothing to worry about.” On any other day, Yukimura would have sent him flying, in one swift throw for such a sudden, personal-space-destroying move, but instead, Yukimura tolerated it, even going as far as to lean back against Niou’s arm. Huh. Maybe he could persuade Yukimura to live the cover for a couple of hours after the mission was done, too, this felt sort of nice. 

Niou felt the heavy stab of a heel on the toe of his foot, and winced. Clearly, Yukimura had sensed what was going through Niou’s mind. Alright, alright, he could take a hint. There was a light buzz of the phone in his shirt-pocket, as the lights in the building opposite them started to flicker on. Game plan, working.

“Let’s go, Ms. Tanaka.” drawled Niou, slinking to the door, letting of Yukimura. With heels, Yukimura was taller than Niou, and that was annoying to walk with. Yukimura just shot him a wry look of annoyance, as Niou locked the door behind him, and they left, masks fully up.


	56. Apodyopis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's easy to get distracted in court meetings, but Atobe's used to that by now, and his prowess doesn't allow him to be anything but perfect.

Even in the middle of discussing important events with Kabaji and Taki, while waiting for the Empress to finally show up and start the court session, it was hard to not look his direction when he walked past. Atobe’s eyes followed Tezuka’s smooth motion down the hall, to where Fuji and Oishi urgently waited, instantly drawing him into conversation, without even a simple greeting. Understandable. Everybody had been pushed into flurry by the new decision proposed by the empress and her bureaucrats. 

It was one thing for daimyos to come and go from court as necessary and according to when they were summoned, but it was another to have to spend six months a year at the Empress’s side. Taki was making some urgent plea about involving the samurai under his watch, but Atobe cut him off, told him to go and send a letter, but to solicit no action. Taki looked irritated, but stalked away.

Atobe’s eyes settled on Tezuka, once more, where he pressed one spidery hand to his hair, his expression looking vaguely pinched and irritated. He adjusted his glasses, and the gleamed in the light. Their eyes met and Tezuka nodded, courteously. Atobe made an expression of ‘annoying isn’t it?’ and Tezuka just made a slight expression of indifference, which further offsetted his straight jaw and high cheekbones. Of course, as a relative to the Empress, he had little aspirations of gaining power, already having quite a lot of power. This decision would hardly effect him. 

Kabaji made a slight noise and Atobe stood up suddenly upon noticing the Empress and her bodyguards entering. Everyone bowed deeply, and she started the session, with things everybody already knew. Atobe’s gaze turned away from the Empress, lightly and focused instead on Tezuka’s lithe figure, bent over slightly in thought. He was not grace incarnate like Yukimura, but the confidence with which he held himself and the sparse movements of someone who moved with excess energy wasted, created an aura of beauty, from which Atobe could not tear his eyes.

Even the most unfeeling of them could appreciate Tezuka’s aesthetics. Atobe’s eyes traced down the slight curve of Tezuka’s spine and the smooth neck that peered out from where his kimono was loose. As ever, his collarbones stuck out, a dark indent on his tanned skin, and the outline of his muscles from underneath the loose underlayer of his long sleeves were a nice distraction to gaze upon. 

As the Empress continued to orate about news that everybody already knew and loathed, Atobe’s mind wandered further on the topic of Tezuka and his very toned body, and the flick and curve of his hair. He wondered how the feel of Tezuka’s skin would be, sliding underneath his own. Would his chapped lips feel pleasant? Would he let Atobe kiss trails down his body? How would he even look underneath the thick layers of kimono and armour? 

He imagined the give of Tezuka’s arms, bracing Atobe above him. he imagined the soft sounds of pleasure as he slowly undid himself and let Atobe pull apart the long layers of cloth. He pictured the way that the beads of sweat would pool in all of his nooks and crannies, and he could almost feel Tezuka’s hands around his waist, if he shut his eyes. They were pleasant thoughts and Atobe’s lips curved up, slightly. 

Kabaji’s arm brushed against Atobe’s spine and he realized that the Empress was calling for discussion about her upcoming decision, and Atobe sighed as he elegantly stood up, faster than the others in the hall. 

Yukimura shot him an annoyed look, but sat back down again. Tezuka just gave him an even look, a look that at any other moment, Atobe would have felt very, very pleased about. However, thoughts of Tezuka and how much Atobe would like to bed him, were best saved for when his dominion wasn’t threatened by foolish decisions.


	57. Kisses are like Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being an author is tiring and frustrating, but Gakuto's always managed to make life better.

It was rather frustrating, honestly. This manuscript was far too…unwieldy, that was probably the best word for it. His editor had called it a goliath and told him to gut it or he wasn’t even going to skim it for the gold. Still, it was like cutting out the internal organs of your baby, it was nearly impossible. With a heavy sigh, Oshitari rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses, with the heels of his palms. He was getting nowhere with this. 

The sound of slurping approaching from behind him disturbed Oshitari momentarily and he looked up to dissuade whomever it was from lingering too long. This was supposed to be a safe haven of solitu– 

“Gakuto.” he said, surprised. The chemist grinned, the feathers hanging from his chest, as he took a seat opposite Oshitari and continued to slurp at his cold drink. 

“’Lo, Yuushi.” said Gakuto, kicking back instantly. “Still not done?”

“Not yet, sadly.” Oshitari mourned, shutting the lid of his computer. He didn’t want to look at the accusing first words of the book, which were already too long. Gakuto laughed, softly, which made Oshitari lift his head slightly. “Are you not supposed to be having a rendez-vous with our dear sleepy sheep?”

Gakuto snorted, as he took another deep sip of the drink, his tongue flickering out over the straw. “How do you manage to make everything sound so dirty? Nah, Jirou cancelled, so I thought I’d check out what the heck you’ve been holed up doing.” The legs of his chair thudded down on the floor as he stole Oshitari’s laptop and opened it. He pulled an immediate face at the first line and shook his head. “Nah, no way. Your usual stuff is sappy as fuck, but this is just boring.”

Oshitari took the computer back, delicately. “I’m aware.” he murmured, looking at the wordcount again, before closing the lid, firmly. Gakuto was watching his face, carefully, though he turned away when Oshitari met his gaze, standing up suddenly, leaving his drink on the table.

“Let’s ditch this place, come on. There’s some new club that Piyo’s bartending at, let’s go and check it out.” He grinned, and his tongue looked very red all of a sudden. Oshitari smiled, softly and stood up.

“Why not?” he asked, dryly and made to follow Gakuto. There were few other people that knew Oshitari so well as to be able to tell when he was annoyed, his sister being one of them, but Gakuto had been his doubles partner for quite some time. and that sort of connection was undeniably strong. Even now, as they drifted away into their respective careers of science and literature, there was still a link between them, where so many other friendships had faded. 

The club line was long, but Gakuto barged to the front, looking haughty as he showed off some sort of pass. Oshitari craned over to see it, but it was whisked away quickly. Interesting. Oshitari quirked an eyebrow at Gakuto and Gakuto shrugged, as if it weren’t his business. 

They slipped inside the dim, pulsing room and Oshitari couldn’t help but smile. The music was actually tolerable for once, and the dance floor was full with people actually dancing. It was just the sort of place that Gakuto liked, but not a place that he assumed Hiyoshi would much enjoy. 

“Dance with me!” yelled Gakuto, pulling down Oshitari’s sleeve, to get his words to Oshitari’s ear. Oshitari nodded and pulled him out to the dance floor. Where Gakuto was more well-versed in breakdancing, Oshitari was more used to the typical club dance. Still, Gakuto seemed happy to grind and to sway with the music, lowly singing along, the slurpy drink’s effect on his mouth and tongue making them all the redder than usual, coming to a shade similar to the colour of his hair. Oshitari couldn’t help but just watch the almost intoxicating image of Gakuto’s lips pronouncing all of the words, under his breath. 

He slid his arms up to Gakuto, just as the song switched to a slightly slower dance. Oshitari knew this one well, and he looped his arms around Gakuto’s neck, swaying with him. The feathers bounced again Gakuto’s chest, and he pouted, adorably as this happened. It was almost impossible to do anything but give in at this point. Ignoring the couples all around them,. Oshitari leant in to kiss Gakuto, slowly pulling his breath away on the thread. 

When they both pulled away, the song was almost over and Gakuto’s face was about as red as his lips, but he grinned. “There we go.” he said, happily, and Oshitari pulled him back in for another, unable to resist the tempting image.


End file.
